


Girl

by KnifeDolly



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M, Friendship/Love, Love, Male-Female Friendship, Rock and Roll, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-14 00:04:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11771274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnifeDolly/pseuds/KnifeDolly
Summary: Summer of 1965. She's cynical, carefree, and seems to always be on the run. John Lennon has finally met his match in the midst of adventure. Can she handle him, or better yet, can he handle her?





	1. Something Short of an Exposition

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! I'm new to Archive of Our Own, but I've been a Beatles fanfiction veteran for years. Hope you enjoy my story! :^)

1965-Pan Am

She never dared to grow her hair out slightly past her shoulders- wavy and black heat-rolled curls that had always remained wild like a hurricane in all kinds of weather. Her eyes, light brown and curious, predisposed you onto joining her onto her every endeavor. Nameless, she climbed aboard onto the plane, her raven curls becoming one with the cigarette smoke of her fellow colleagues.

She silently thanked God for a window seat, until she felt someone kick the leather cushioned padding.  _Oh, there's a child on this plane_ , she thought to herself, grimacing a bit.

"Sorry," the voice behind her murmured. She was surprised to discover that the actions belonged to man, rather than a six year old who fidgets too often.

"Oh, it's alright," she sheepishly smiled at him. He was handsome, with long dark hair that too laid on his head in waves, although they were slight. His eyes hid behind sunglasses.

The woman with the black hair and heart of wanderlust spent her eight hour flight facing the wrong way in her seat, gripping her seat cushions and resting her chin on the headrest and covering her mouth when she laughed too hard at the man with the sunglasses's stories.

Eventually, he took off his sunglasses, to reveal his own set of light brown eyes.

1966-Somewhere in London

The orchestra filled the air in the reception area in a chapel with a symphony, cheering off the pomp and circumstance with blissful champagne bubbles and promise of living for forever and a day. Rose petals scattered the wooden floor, often meeting its fate of getting stepped on by a heel.

The man with the sunglasses and the spectacular woman with the dark hair attended a wedding. However, it was not their own. In fact, they weren't even sitting together; they sat on opposite wings of the hall. She sat with hardly-known acquaintances and bit her tongue to avoid speaking to them. On the other hand, he wasn't with her. He was with her, his wife, his honey-blonde college sweetheart.

Initially, she was outraged that he was married; however, he had explained that it was a marriage out of obligation, not even remotely close to love. She resented him, and though her heart had been full, she knew how and when to cut the threads that bound their veins into one stream. He even said that he was going to divorce her soon so he could be happy with her.

But still, marriage is marriage. And he was set to tell his wife tonight.

He looked straight across the room to her and couldn't help but smile, a pure sensation that would make him go tender at the mere sight of her anxious face. He tilted his head the slightest to the exit, towards the small garden outside.

Once outside, they ran through Van Gogh's Starry Starry night hand in hand, securing any possibility of being spotted- a mod Bonnie and Clyde.

"I-I don't know if I can do this. It's not fair to me or her," her face was flushed.

"Please, please wait," he furrowed his brows and kept her hands safely in his. They were always cold, even during the summer. "You've got the entire world inside of you."

He got down on one knee, pulling a velvet box out from his pocket.

"Look at me, dear. Now I know we can't get married-not right now, maybe in the future. I just want you to know that I promise to always love you, and take care of you, and chase you wherever the hell you go because I know you hate being in one place," he looked at her desperately, kissing her fingers. "And with this ring, I promise to always be by your side."

He slid the ring onto her left ring finger, leaping up to kiss her feverishly. His ears felt hot. The spaces between their bodies quickly filled and suddenly, they were one, and then none. Wiping their tears away, they made sure to keep their distance when walking back to the reception. But not even a mere 25 paces could establish their distance.

She, the golden haired woman, understood that too.

2 and 2 becomes three, and a golden tide crashes onto a cascade of obsidian with its wave of wine.

And that cascade of obsidian runs once again, this time alone, and with a face splashed with 1960 Chianti.

* * *

 

There is nothing more repulsive than staying in one place- the stagnant nature of basking in routine. Running away from everything, she had purchased the cheapest ticket to South Africa and suddenly, she was out of her too tight pink dress after receiving a face splashed with wine, and on her way to chase the dry sky above her.

She knew it meant leaving everything behind, including him, but she knew she would be okay.

The previous night's endeavors were catastrophic and tasted bitter in the back of her throat.

Politely excusing herself through the cramped seat aisles, stuffed with various peoples and their own stories of escape, she avoided eye contact until finding a seat of her own. She had met him on an airplane too.

She looked down at the silver band on her left ring finger; although it was not a wedding or engagement ring, it still bound her to him eternally.

It's not like they didn't want to get married. They couldn't. Lacking a lawful wed, the only perennial binding they had was a promise.

Luckily, a promise was the only thing they needed.

"That ring looks familiar," a man with a large hat sat next to her.

"Yeah, it's a popular ring probably. It was a gift," she scoffed, twisting it around her finger and not bothering to look up.

"Whoever gave it to you really loves you then,"

"I love him too," she smiled softly, "But we can't be together,"

"Well, maybe we can,"

She lifted her head and finally looked at him.

He smiled smugly, removing his hat. "I've missed you quite a lot, darling."


	2. Margot the Magnificent

"The 1:20PM flight from London, England to the Bahamas is now boarding," an intercom voice announced. The airport bustled with its interchanging patrons, the gleaming tiles clicking as luggage wheels whirred and heels tapped against its surface.

Margot gleamed, glancing up at the clock and clutching her first-class ticket to the Bahamas. A wanderlust-stricken nomad, she had thrown her life away and made her way to chase the world. She handed her ticket to the less-than-enthusiastic attendant. She never dared to grow her hair out slightly past her shoulders- wavy and black heat-rolled curls that had always remained wild like a hurricane in all kinds of weather. Her eyes, light brown and curious, predisposed you onto joining her onto her every endeavor. She climbed aboard onto the plane, her raven curls becoming one with the cigarette smoke of her fellow colleagues.

She silently thanked God for a window seat, until she felt someone kick the leather cushioned padding.  _Oh, there's a child on this plane_ , she thought to herself, grimacing a bit.

"Sorry," the voice behind her murmured. She was surprised to discover that the actions belonged to man, rather than a six year old who fidgets too often.

"Oh, it's alright," she sheepishly smiled at him. He was handsome, with long dark hair that too laid on his head in waves, although they were slight. His eyes hid behind sunglasses. She squinted at him and tilted her head slightly- he looked familiar, and his voice was something she's heard many times. She rested her chin on the leather headrest of the seat, gripping its sides.

A glint of mischief shone through her brown eyes. Smirking, she took the glasses off his face and tucked them onto her head.

"Ah. You're a Beatle," she raised her eyebrows. "That Lennon fellow."

Returning her cunning smile, he retorted, "I thought I was that McCartney fellow! And who must you be?"

"Margot, the Magnificent," she grinned, "At your service, Beatle Lennon."

"Is that so?"

"You wish."

"And, so what if I do?" It was slightly unnatural for a girl to not fawn over him, but he enjoyed it, basking in its comfort. She only threw back what he said right back at him. Most often, women would fumble on their words and say the same things over and over; it had become a second nature for him to receive compliments at an epidermal level.

"Then you must be desperate," she replied. "You have 12 year olds at your feet, anyways."

He snorted at her remark. Beatlemania had become something he'd grown to appreciate but slowly resent. He couldn't go outside without being attacked by girls, always shoving Paul out first to be devoured. He was the prettiest, anyway. Not often was it that a woman wasn't phased by him given his heightened status and overall fame; her presence was something along the lines of jeering, yet jolting, like touching the side of a boiling pot. "Not a fan of the fans I see. Why is that? Is it because they're taller than you?"

"Oh bite me, Lennon." Margot rolled her eyes and chuckled at his comment. She was pretty short, though she was taken aback that he noticed.

"Quit sitting the wrong way, Miss. Are you 12?"

"No, I listen to good music, thank you very much."

"Ouch!" John sunk a little in his seat. "Well, Ms. Margot the Magnificent, if you're not going to sit properly, at least bring your shenanigans to this row, pretty please."

"What do I get out of it?" She tapped her fingers against the leather. Her voice was deadpan.

"Me, of course."

"How repulsive," she muttered, albeit crawling out of her seat and walking to the brown haired man's row behind her. She plopped down to the seat next to him, buckling up.

Now, he had a closer view of her face. She looked borderline evil, very catlike. Her long, black hair, cascading in large waves, contrasted heavily with the trend of bobbed blonde hair. Her olive skin was sprinkled with light freckles, which brought out the gold in her light brown eyes. Her eyes were curious, yet unreadable, as though they hadn't contained any emotions, or knew how to. She was beautiful, and it hurt.

"Flight 711 to New Providence, Bahamas is now flying. Please buckle up, as we prepare for takeoff." the pilot announced over the intercom. The plane began to speed on the runway, and soon enough, it lifted off the pavement and aimed for the skies; Margot had never been afraid of flying. She had never been afraid of anything, as a matter of fact. The plane settled itself once again, and the city below began to mold into an obscure civilization.

"Not afraid of heights, eh?" John asked her.

"Not afraid of anything," she replied. "What are you afraid of?"

A question he learned to not acknowledge, John hadn't thought much of what he fears. He's faced death at a young age; fear is something he had learned to dance with.

"You."

"Very cute, Lennon," the chance of John being afraid of her was median. Men were attracted to her easily; something about her predisposed many to doing whatever she desired. As the numbers stacked, her amount of care decreased. She denounced the name of love in their faces. "But really, what kills you?"

"You, again." He smiled at her. "And the dentist."

"Aw, afraid of a teeth cleaning!" she laughed. "You're very sweet, by the way."

"I try, I do. I really do," he murmured as he stared at her face. "Now if you give me a pen, I could make out little constellations on that pretty face."

Margot was confident of her freckles, unlike the many who resented the specks on their face, as if they were marks on a test that could not be erased fully. "I know, I'm an entire universe."

"Who's the sun of yours?" he asked.

"No one," she shook her head. "Not even you."

"Oh, how I wished to be, though,"

"Maybe you can be," she patted his head. His brown her was soft, and she couldn't help but smile when he did.


	3. Mile High Club

The rest of the flight consisted of the two of them talking, as though they had known each other since the universe was created. It could be considered flirting even, if Margot allowed herself to feel anything towards others. A guarded woman, she was; one that not even a Beatle could crack.

"I hadn't asked ya why you're flyin' to some exotic island by yourself, love," John piped up, placing his chin in his hand.

"Well, why are you?" she retorted, avoiding the question. She didn't fancy answering questions too easily or quickly.

"Band stuff," He replied. "You stuff." John wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made her groan and roll her eyes, as though it were her second nature.

Margot had noticed he was leaning closer to her now. Cute, she thought. She could see why so many girls had fallen so hard for him; he was sarcastic and witty. He was a book begging to be opened, a mystery to be solved. But even the most attractive of men did not charm her.

From John's point of view, Margot had been the same way. Attractive, but hard to crack. She was very similar to him in a way where they were both sarcastic and lacked the ability to take things seriously. Essentially, she was the challenge he had been waiting for, what has seemed like years.

"You are a dog, John Lennon!" she groaned. "Anyway, I'm just trying to find my way through the world."

"How's that?"

"Dunno. Perhaps I'm just bored," she explained. "I just have this urge to take on everything, but I can never be satisfied."

"Bet,"

She punched him in the arm. "Not like that, you arse," she continued. "I want to explore. I think I'd die if I stayed in the same place, wouldn't you?"

John looked at her and considered her question; as a rockstar, he was never home, always on the run and always at a new place, yet he hadn't felt more trapped. "I'd put myself out of my own misery,"

"You probably don't feel the same way, given that you're constantly touring and stuff," she claimed.

"Now that's where you're wrong," John said. "Being a Beatle is the fuckin' bee's knees and all, but I can't enjoy anything without being bombarded by fans who've gone potty. Perhaps I'm trapped in a different way, love."

This time, it was Margot's turn to consider what he had just said. She felt for him, understanding how tedious it would be to never breathe or relax due to fans and fame. After this, they stopped talking, sitting in silence as John wrote in a journal, while she looked out the window. She nodded off, unknowingly resting her head on his shoulder.

John looked down while trying not to move, enjoying the warmth he felt on his shoulder. He rested his head on top of her's, smiling subtly. They remained like this for the next two hours, subconsciously enjoying the other's company.

Margot jumped in her sleep, waking herself up. Once realizing where she had been sleeping, she scoffed and quickly sat up, hoping that he wouldn't notice; however, he woke up as well, his hair slightly unkempt. He had looked pretty adorable with his messy hair, though she would never admit it out loud.

"G'morning, angel face," he smirked at her sleepily.

She felt her cheeks warm up. "Save the names for your wife, Lennon,"

Knowing that John was married, the constant flirting was questionable. She was certain that getting involved with a celebrity would be hell, for the both of them. Alongside that, she wasn't fond of cheaters; she believed it would be easier to cut ties off, then pursue the person they desired. However, such circumstances weren't as easy for John, as he was married, with a son.

"Wish I could," he replied. "But for now, those names suit you." He looked around to see Paul, Ringo, and George, who were all still asleep in their rows.

"Angelface, my arse," She said, laughing. "More like demonface."

"The only demonface around here is me," He said. He crossed his eyes and bared his teeth.

"For once, I agree with you,"

She glanced out the window and pressed her head on the glass. The sky was an orange and pink that swirled together endlessly, a marmalade delight.

"See? Now we're getting places," He replied, subtly wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "You should also agree to meet me in the restroom in five minutes." He tilted his head down and whispered into her ear. She snapped and sat straight, shooting him a look of disgust.

"What," She said.

"You heard me,"

"What," She repeated herself. She glared at him.

"See ya in five minutes, love." His cheeks were raised so high on his face, as though he was about to crack from smiling so much.

"No,"

"Why not?"

"The only way you and I are ever going in there is if you're holding my hair back while I vomit,"

"Those years in charm school really paid off,"

"Ta." She rolled her eyes.

Five minutes later

John winked at her as he stood up and left for the bathroom. He chuckled and jumped through the aisle. Margot turned around and watched him close the door. I'm not going in there, fuck that. She thought to herself. She laughed at the thought of him waiting there for the rest of the flight.

Three minutes later

Damn it. Margot thought as she opened the bathroom door. John stood there, using his arm to lean on.

"Was there traffic on the way here?" He asked.

"Shut up," She shoved him and their lips collided.


	4. It Wouldn't Hurt to Tag Along

It was as though the two of them could set the entire plane on fire with one kiss. Their lust was incendiary, though ephemeral. This was the closest to love they could get, and it was a good kind of pain.   
  
"Christ, are you a succubus?" John asked, out of breath, as he leaned against the grey wall.   
  
Margot glanced at him through the mirror while she fixed her hair. She shrugged. "Dunno, maybe," She unlocked the door and walked back to her seat. "Hurry up, will you? There's a line."   
  
John scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head. Where the hell has this girl been all his life? She was a woman made of hellfire. She got under his skin so quickly, nothing like anything he'd seen before in his life. She was nothing like Cynthia; she didn't have manners, she was brooding and rude, dark in every way. He didn't even like dark haired girls. Yet here she was, with messy, black hair, already breaking his heart. He zipped his pants off and ran to his seat, bumping into the next person in line for the bathroom. He muttered a "sorry" and plopped back into the leather seat.   
  
The black haired woman snickered and shook her head, cursing at herself in her head. Eternally a nonbeliever of love, yet she betrayed herself, and his wife, who could easily be pictured taking care of a child, most likely counting down the days until her coy-mouthed husband could return home. She could not but feel pity for the blonde woman; she wondered how often John had a quick shag with another woman while on tour, how easily he had surrendered his fidelity for an hour of mustered up passion. It was quite ironic how she had no fear of intimacy just as she felt the fear of commitment bubble up in her skin. Intimacy and commitment meld eloquently, hand in hand, one without the other; in Margot's life, intimacy and commitment are nothing but enemies and juxtaposed acquaintances who could not merge for more than a minute before erupting to catastrophic, tragic debris.   
  
John lit a cigarette in the seat, the smoke unfurling and reaching Margot's nostrils, a rockstar's makeshift after-sex-cigarette. Neither of them said a word to each other besides the time he had attempted to hold her hand, which she had yanked away and told him to "sod off".   
  
"How often do you shag women other than your wife?" it was as though her voice pierced the air with her soft and low voice.  
  
He tilted his head slightly and didn't change his expression, though he had been taken aback by her sudden inquiry. Usually Paul and the rest of them wouldn't say or make much of it, as it had become a silent and circadian blemish on the touring days that not even a single of them could stand up to protest. Touring, decadent and laden with the promise of the utmost rewarding success and glory had proven to be the loneliest of days, as though the four men were dehydrated and abandoned at sea. The roaring in his ears was substantially more trying than the desire for any crowd of adoring fans could ever be. The wanting, the needing of love, comfort, a goddamn body to hold had prompted for fidelity to unhinge itself as a commonplace in their lives.   
  
"Too often than I should. Next question is for you," John replied.   
  
She couldn't ask why, because she already knew the answer. She was two parts apathy and one part pity, for him, and his star-crossed wife. Defeated, she sighed and quickly mulled over this tension-filled air. She declared that she wouldn't care about anything and this was no exception.   
  
"Alright, shoot,"  
  
"Are you going to miss me once this plane lands?" he asked, "Where are you gonna go after this?"  
  
"Okay, first off, that was two questions," she answered. "Secondly, no, and none of your business."  
  
"I think we should continue what we have going on after this death trap lands, yeah?" his cigarette hung loosely from his lips. Noting this, Margot pulled it from his lips and placed it inbetween her own, breathing in the smoky air.   
  
"Aw, you're gonna miss me!"  
  
"I won't, if you come with me."  
  
"Where? I'm sorry, but being trampled on by fans sounds like bleedin' hell to me."  
  
John sighed. "It is sometimes, but you would be the only thing in the world that will stop me from yankin' my hair out during this thing!"  
  
"You're one of the most famous people on this planet, flying to a beautiful and tropical destination and you think you're gonna go bald from misery?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Margot tossed her head back and laughed. "My god, Lennon, you are a child."  
  
"I know, and you are an angel face, so pretty please, just accompany me during this trip."  
  
"What will your mates say about you being with a stranger like me?"  
  
He shrugged. "It won't be anything new to them."  
  
She couldn't believe that she was actually considering this nonsense. It was trivial and all seemed to good to be true, as if she were experiencing a fever dream. Being with him was like having a fever, after all. She pictured the tabloid news articles in her head, how her life would be teeming with paparazzi and microphones being shoved into her face would become a clockwork routine in her young days. Margot knew better than to let herself get easily exposed, and if she were to continue this with Lennon, it would be as traceable as the Bermuda Triangle. However, she also knew she couldn't give in too easily; her mind games were too important to give up.   
  
"We'll just have to see then, won't we?" she took another drag of the cigarette. Impulsive with her decisions, she didn't even know what her next step in action would be herself.   
Soon enough, the plane would be landing, a shrill urgency that represented her impending decision.   
  
"Cheeky, I like it," he replied. The intercom announced that the plane would be landing in ten minutes. "Write down the address of the hotel you're staying at. I'll be visiting you soon." He ripped off a piece of paper from his notebook and handed her a pencil. John leaned over her shoulder as she began to scrawl in messy handwriting.  
  
"Space, please? Thank you. I need to breathe too, you know," she chuckled. She folded up the piece of paper, and slipped it into the pocket of his shirt.  
  
"Thank you for your service, miss," John said. "I'll see you soon, Angelface."  
  
She looked at him and smiled; the plane had finally landed, and she stood up to retrieve her bags. She moved past Lennon and tried to move into the aisle, bumping into Paul McCartney.   
  
"Ya ever heard of moving?" she snickered and patted him on the shoulder before squeezing in front of him and pacing up to the airplane doors.   
  
Paul glanced at John and shot him a discerning look. "Quite a bird you got there, Johnny."  
  
"I know, right?" John muttered under his breath as he watched her flee the plane. He and the rest of the Beatles eventually stepped off the plane, the tropical winds making a mess of their shaggy, dark hair. Turning in his feet, he scanned the vicinity for the girl with dark hair, but only found a cluster of faceless bodies, clutching their suitcases and cameras and heading their own directions.   
  
He reached into his shirt pocket and unfolded the slip of paper, chuckling and shaking his head at what he saw.   
  
In messy handwriting, it read, "T R Y A G A I N".

 


	5. A Subtle Hide and Seek

"I can't fuckin' believe it," he said, dumbfounded. She had completely knocked him off of his feet and he could still feel his teeth ringing. He shook his head once again and smiled, impressed at how she had fooled him so easily. It was as though he puffed his chest out, cocky and confident that he would find her again someday, and hopefully soon, where she could finally be rightfully his. He folded the note back up, a frivolous and insipid reminder that whatever this chase was, was at its most premature stage. 

"Can't believe what?" Paul asked, grabbing the note from his shirt pocket. He read the ripped piece of paper and laughed. 

"What the hell is this? 'Try again'?" he laughed. "She didn't put out, ey Lennon?"

"She fuckin' did!" John replied. "She must of disappeared into thin air or something!"

"Sure sounds like it," Paul said sarcastically. "Maybe she wants you to get out of her sight, ever think of that? Poor bird was probably prayin' for it to be over!" 

"Then why'd she tell me to try again?" the older Beatle asked, beginning to walk away and only turning back to say, "Fuckin' twat."

McCartney placed his hands in the air as a gesture of surrender, although he had found the situation much to his amusement; not often was it that Lennon was rejected, or stood up by a woman, or anyone, in fact. He mentally thanked the dark haired woman, wherever she may be, for this sweet, sonorous, albeit, flippant opportunity to tame John's ego. He had been so easily accustomed, adjusted to the orbital routine of Lennon having women at his knees that he could not help but enjoy this strange, yet comforting calm before a great and catastrophic storm. Ironically enough, his grin quickly melted as the thought of him encountering a woman who just met his caliber, unafraid and ready to serve as his opponent entered the vast and ongoing planes of his mind. He scurried to carry his bags and followed the rest of the Beatles on their way to catch a car.

"Try again"? What the hell does that even mean? John thought to himself. He scoffed as he realized that there was a reason why she had told him to back off when writing on the piece of paper- he had been too foolish to check the note once he received it. He mentally slapped himself in the face for having not been more aware, more alert that women like her were not easy to catch. He shouldn't care about her, right? He was John fucking Lennon, and things like this happen all the time- this was just a fling, a fling with a unique and eccentric woman much more independent and free than most. She was just like every other woman, right? He silently attempted to convince himself that he would forget about her, though each thought was more trifling and trying than the last, futile and borderline pathetic.

* * *

 "To Sandals Resort, please!" Margot said, smiling at the taxi driver as she entered the back seats.

She glimpsed outside of her window, smirking once the airport behind her shrunk down in size. Taking in the greenery and blue, cloudless sky above her, Margot basked in the sheer magnificence and liberty of being far away from home, alone, with a head start on a lifesize game of tag that she herself hadn't known whether she would be able to complete or not. Fuzzed tropical music emanated from the speakers of the old taxi, an unlikely friend that would accompany her and serve as a bodiless companion-not that she had ever felt a drop of loneliness, however; she had been alone all her life, but she had never felt so favored.

She thanked the driver as she exited the car and paid him a copious tip before grabbing her luggage out of the trunk. This was the threshold of adventure.

He looked everywhere for her when he wasn't shooting for Help!, the Beatles' most recent film. Inbetween takes, he would scan the area for her. The others had assumed he had gone mad, or paranoid from smoking too much pot. After filming for the day, John and the rest of them had gone to eat, dabbling in the luxury of five-star service. Margot had been able to sit up in first class with the rest of them, so he assumed that only she would have been enabled to dine at overly expensive restaurants as well.

"John, who are you looking for?" Brian Epstein asked. "You haven't touched your food, are you sick?"

Before John could speak up, Paul cut him off. "No, he's just smitten with some bird he met on the plane. They got off really well, then she disappeared! She probably ran off with another man, you know."

"Oh Christ, is that true, John?" their manager said.

 "It's none of your damn business, that's what," John replied as he stabbed food with his fork and piled it into his mouth.

"It was basically a one night stand then! You don't need other women to be causing this much of a rouse," Epstein replied. "Whatever this is, it better not become public; wouldn't want the wife to find out about this. And this goes for any of you." He pointed at the rest of the Beatles, with Ringo's eyes widening.

"I wouldn't even think of such a thing!" Ringo exclaimed, placing his arms in the air as a form of submission.

"I've got Pattie, no need for me to look around," George piped up, although all of them knew that they would be in fact mingling with numerous women.

“We’ll behave, Eppy. No need to worry about us, us meaning George, Ringo, and I,” Paul laughed. John punched him in the arm. To him it was more than a one night stand. A one night stand was a lust driven act of half spoken words and shallow promises. Whatever was what John and the dark haired woman had was an unfinished book with the endings ripped out, and he was simply trying to catch the missing pages.

* * *

**Two days later**

 She was smoke under a lamp, mingling with various people nevermore for a good moment. Like smoke, she was painfully strong and present, yet she left people wondering whether she even existed at all, an inbetween and ephemeral ghost who could not decide where to haunt. The night was newborn and it was the latest club in the vicinity of Nassau, where Margot decided to cheer her vacation off, with the schemes and dreams of a promise of never growing up, and eternally basking in youthful glory. Drink in hand, she danced the night away, faces melting away into nothingness.

There she was, in a tight dress, with half of her hair up in a bouffant.

In the flesh.

And she was beautiful.

The rest of the boys had been too busy flirting with other women to notice that John was alone; he rubbed his eyes to ensure that she was in fact, there. It was as though time slowed down, and perhaps, she really was the still point in the turning world. In his imagined slow motion, John walked up to her and reached out, surprised that he felt something as his fingertips touched her thin wrist.

"There you are," he said. "I've been lookin' for you everywhere!"

"I'm impressed," Margot replied, her voice was cool and low. "You really did try again." She took a sip of her martini. 

"Yeah I fuckin' did. Why'd you leave?" his voice grew slightly aggressive, annoyed with her reluctance to commit to anything, for being so unreachable in such a short matter of area and time.

She squinted at him, and averted her eyes to see if anyone was watching. Paul, George, and Ringo made eye contact with her and quickly looked away. "Because I can, darling. 'Why would you stay?' would be a better question for you, now that I think about it. Now, why would you?"

"You're a Beatle, you can have anyone you want, can't you?" she continued.

He stared at her in disbelief. "Well I can, can't I?" he retorted to all of her questions. "Remember that you're not the only one here who can do whatever the damn hell they want."

He sighed, unable to render why he was getting so worked up. She pulled out a cigarette and as if it were on command, he fished out his lighter and rewarded her with a single flame. She looked at him as a sign of gratitude.  

“I’m just wondering why someone like you would want someone like me, that’s all,” she responded; it was half rhetorical, only shooting that kind of inquiry into the air was simply a matter of prompting a sign of vulnerability. She knew he wanted him because it was just what he needed, but would he admit it? How would he admit it?

“You and I both know for damn sure why I want you!” John replied in a “matter-of-fact” tone. “I can tell you want me too, you know. You’re just scared of confessing your little ol’ crush on me.”

“Once again, Lennon, I’m not one of your 12 year old fans, you probably wish I were though, right?”

“No, I like my woman slightly more developed, thank you very much.”

“How much is slightly, exactly?” Margot retorted. “13? Or maybe 16?”

“I ain’t a fuckin’ pedophile!” John said. “I meant developed in height, little Hobbit. Maybe you can ask Santa for some stilts.”

Margot rolled her eyes, given that she had to look up when speaking to him. He was significantly taller than her, standing at 5’10” while she was a mere 5’2”. “And maybe you can ask Santa for a brain.”

“Ow! My heart!”

“Oh, wasn’t aware you had one of those either.”

“Listen, love, if anyone here doesn’t have a heart, it’s gonna be you.” He held her chin and her eyes smoldered.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“Well, is it now?” he grinned at her.

“I don’t really need one. It’s not like I’d give it away anytime soon,” she replied. “Especially not to you of all people.”

“Is that a threat or a promise now, Angelface?”

“Maybe a little bit of both. Why don’t you be a gentleman and buy me a Scotch and Coke?” while it was a question, she made it seem like it was an order.

“Your wish is my command, princess,” he winked at her and disappeared into the crowd of people, gleaming at the fact that she had ordered his favorite drink. 

She scoffed at the sickening nickname and took a seat at one of the long couches in the club, holding her cigarette with two slender, manicured fingers. One man noticed that she was alone, and sat beside her. 

“Are you and that Lennon fellow a thing?” the man asked.

“Perhaps, why?” she didn’t remove her eyes from the furling ashes of her cigarette. 

“Oh, that’s a shame. You’re quite the looker and I was interested in getting to know you. You know, Lennon has a wife and a son back home,” the man spoke quickly and aggressively, his breath was stale with the stench of alcohol and smoke.

“That’s nice,” Margot was half attentive to the conversation, sighing as she glanced into the sea of people. For the first time, she wanted John’s presence, only to shoo off this sad excuse for a man. 

John went back to the same spot, only to his dismay, where she was nowhere in sight. Silently panicking, he frantically turned in his feet and searched for her, instantly calming down once he saw her sitting on a couch, although it was with another man. Knowing her attitude, he knew the man beside her was no threat.

“I left only for a minute, and you’ve got yourself a new boyfriend?” John teased. “Here’s your drink, love.”

“Ta,” Margot grabbed the drink from his hand and lifted it slightly as a cheer, winking at him. 

“ _New_ boyfriend?” the man stammered.  

“Yes, I am her boyfriend, isn’t that right, love?” John asked.

She looked up from her drink and raised her eyebrows, nodding as she took a sip. Serves the man for instigating, after all. Men like him wouldn’t stand a chance. John couldn’t help but smile because for the first time, she agreed with him. It was a rather simple notion, but its magnitude could have rivaled the power of a thousand earthquakes.

“The lady confirms it, so move,” John said. “You’re takin’ too much space.” The man shot them a dirty look and walked away from his failed and miserable attempt.

“Thanks for saving me, that man was pathetic,” Margot took a drag of her cigarette.

“So you agree that I’m your boyfriend?” John asked, smiling.

“For only 15 seconds!”

“I promise I can last longer than that,” he chuckled. “After all, you would know.”

“You are a dog,” she replied. “Also, you aren’t my boyfriend.”

“So, ‘lover’, then?” Another sip.

“Oh, not even close.” Margot gagged at his question and playfully hit him in the arm.

“So, referring back to our prior conversation before we were rudely interrupted, what if I made you grow a heart? Then, would you give it to me?”

“It depends on the weather, honestly."

“I’ll make sure it rains every day then, yeah?” John shot her a strange, yet adoring look at the woman.

“If I gave you my heart, would you give me yours?” she asked.

“In a heartbeat.” He winked at her, receiving what felt like a thousandth eye roll. Initially, she shot him a strange look as a response. A rockstar and loyalty would never mix, and the chances of someone like him committing ultimately to her were subterranean. 

“For some reason, I don’t believe you! You’ll just have to prove it to me then, won’t you?” She taunted.

“It’s a deal, then.”

  



	6. Troublemaker Heartbreaker

Margot was indifferent, as in, her intuition had been clouded physically and mentally on account of her surroundings and given situation. She assessed Lennon’s traits, separating his fame from his being. Her vision was too often compromised due to the smoke, and overall atmosphere of the club-mentally, she couldn’t distinguish magic from a rabbit in the hat. Unlike other men, she resonated quite well with how he saw the world, and she only desired those who could be a partner in crime, a rival, a sparring partner.

“What does the winner get? A kiss on the cheek? A town sheriff sticker badge?” She asked. 

“A hell of a good time with me, sweetheart,” Lennon replied.

“‘Good time’, haha, good one. Why do you say it like you’ve already won?” Margot shifted her position on the couch, and John wrapped his arm around her.

“Might as well give up now, Ms. Magnificent. You’ll be on your knees, beggin’ for me by the end of it,” Lennon took a drag of her cigarette.

“Giving up and I don’t get along,” she said as she snatched it back. “Very much like you and common sense. Anyway, it’s too easy to not give up.”

Introspecting on her previous relationships, she hadn’t ever given in truly loving someone fully, and truly believed that people like her weren’t made for love, only short lived moments and spontaneous bouts of distraction; _people like her weren’t supposed to stay_.

“What makes you think that? I’m handsome-” John started off.

“Eh-” Margot said, but was then cut off.

“Smart-” he continued.

“Smartass-” she added on.

“Witty-”

“Obnoxious-”

“Confident-”

“Conceited-”

“Talented-”

“Lucky-”

“Charismatic-”

“Quite repelling, actually,” she blew a ring of smoke into his face, and he coughed.

He stared at her, and he couldn’t tell if he was staring at the lady or the tiger. Her eyes held nothing but opaque clairvoyance, easily manipulating the ability to induce him into following her every endeavor. Every word rivaled his own and yet, he had never been more attracted, orbiting her as though the Moon taught him to gravitate towards things he could not be without.

“You’re quite magnetic, I’m surprised you and I haven’t clashed and knocked a few teeth out yet,” He placed his hand on her stocking-covered thigh.

“I’ve been told I can throw a good punch, you know,” she laughed and leaned in closer to him. “Don’t be surprised any day now.” She plucked John’s hand off of her thigh and stood up.

“That’ll be easy,” he said sarcastically. “It’s not like anything you do is unpredictable or anything…”

“If you need me, I’ll be getting another drink,” she said before sauntering off. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Not wanting to be particularly left out, or alone, John stood up and followed suit, snaking an arm around her waist. In addition to feeling left out, the underlying thought of losing her again protruded in his mind, as she was untouchable and restless, never exhausting her destinations. He found himself countlessly being surprised at her actions, whether she was being affectionate or completely despondent; this time, he beamed at her silent permission of his hand on her small waist, which to him, was akin to breaking another barrier. Over her shoulder, he ordered another drink as well, the alcohol leaving a trail of sparks in comparison to the wildfire Margot had left inside his left ventricle.

Rather than returning to their couch, Margot slipped her hand into his and led him to the crowded dancefloor, allowing the music to possess her. There she was, the girl on fire, pausing time with a simple twirl; John fixated his eyes on her and downed whatever was left in his glass before entering her space and dancing with her. It wasn’t frequent for someone like him to dance. Usually, he would be too busy doing other things than to truly stop and listen to the music. Being with her was like being in slow motion and for the first time, in a long time, he stopped to enjoy the audible art. She allowed the music to fill her empty veins and she had left the tiled area singed with her electric glory. Each of her movements, sensual and eccentric, taunted and teased the famous rockstar, prompting him to storm over and kiss her passionately on the lips, and he couldn’t tell what burned more- his throat, or his lips, for she had never been more incendiary.

“I can’t fuckin’ take this anymore. Let’s go upstairs,” John said into her ear, brushing her hair back. At this point, Margot had just enough alcohol to loosen her up, but not completely overcome her.

“You’ll have to catch me first then,” she winked at him and began to bolt to the door, eloquently sliding through numerous clubbers. John shook his head at her and laughed and began to chase her, apologizing for bumping into the same people. Once having exited the club, he stood on his toes and searched for Margot, laughing once he found her running down the tropical streets. He exerted his energy and ran until he finally caught up to her, grabbing her wrist and carrying her on his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” he growled, out of breath, as he headed for the hotel. “Can’t escape me now.”

“Jesus, John! Put me down!” she exclaimed between laughs, out of breath as well. She pounded her fists against his back and slowly began to give up from laughing too hard. Once they reached the lobby of the hotel, he placed her down on the ground.

“The whole fucking street probably saw my knickers!” Margot pulled her dress down and hit Lennon’s arm.

“Ow!” he exclaimed. “You’re gonna pay for that, honey.”

“Oh shut up,” she pushed him out of the way and raced for the elevator, jamming on the up arrow. She hadn’t even realized that the hotel John brought her to was the same one she was staying in. He shoved her out of the way and jammed on the button as well, and this continued until it finally arrived.

“Move!” she yelled, shoving him once again. She made it first into the elevator and tried to close it before he got in, but he was too close and made it in time. He turned around and put his hands on her waist again before kissing her once again, even feeling her bite his lip a few times. Again, the lift doors opened and its welcoming ding of arrival set Margot off in opponent mode once more, pushing him off of her and running off.

“My suite’s over here, woman,” John called out to her, and she turned around, somehow still managing to make it over there before he did. He unlocked the door and she bolted in, and hid. He searched for her, jumping every so often. Then, he heard a giggle and a door close.

“Little pig, little pig, let me in,” he gruffed as he walked over.

“Not by the hairs of my chinny chin chin!” Margot replied in a high pitch voice.

“Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down!” he yelled out, knocking on the door. Suddenly, she opened the door a tad, only to flip him the bird.

“You’re a wanker,” she said, and began to close the door. However, John’s foot blocked it from moving, and he got a hold of her. She slid out of his grip and ran across the master bedroom, where they stood at opposite ends of the bed, out of breath. She chucked a pillow at his head and screamed when he pounced for her, prompting her to roll over the bed and onto the other side. She never seemed to stop running, and Lennon was always close on her tail, until he pinned her to the bed, declaring himself as the winner.

“And you’re mine now, Ms. Magnificent,” John nipped at her neck playfully. “Or should I say, Mrs. Wanker?”

Margot exhaled a sigh of defeat. “Actually, that’s Ms.Not-Yours to you, mister,” she lifted her head up to kiss him.

“Your actions speak louder than words, luv,” he chuckled before suckling on her neck and leaving a purple mark. He glanced at the clock on the wall, and it read 2:10, its arms ticking away in a never ending cycle. He looked over at the large, wide window, where the moon and sparse city lights shimmered through and washed over Margot’s olive skin. Often times, at 2:10AM John would have been in bed, sleeping with Cynthia, and though a rather simplistic procedure, he had preferred this rendition of the night more than any other, with his guilt a past memory.

He feverishly kissed Margot on the lips once again, squeezing her pinned wrists; his long legs restricted the bottom half of her body from moving, as his legs were straddled over hers. She was stunned by the force of the kiss that emanated from the mischievous and experienced lips from the man who was possibly blessed by Apollo himself. Gaining power, she freed her wrists from John’s fists and began unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his sunless skin.

Three layers in between them.

He reciprocated, tugging the grey and black lace body off of her figure and thus exposing her black lingerie- he could have sworn that she glowed. She forced himself off of her body and flipped them over so that she was on top, and began yanking at his jeans. Never once had she ever felt so frenetic and in need in and from a man, not until the moment the “Do Not Disturb” sign swung from the doorknob of Suite 101.

Two layers.

Though a rather brash man, Lennon knew manners. He took off his boxers and did the favor of unclasping her bra, which he then flung across the room. The flying object knocked over a piece of furniture, causing the couple to laugh at their own impatience. Flipping them over once again, John gained dominance, sliding down her lace knickers.

Zero layers.

“You’re such a damn tease,” John growled as he slapped her ass, and pulled on her hair. He grabbed his tie from the side of the bed and used it as a makeshift blindfold, beginning their night dangerously.

Around 4AM, Margot was finally asleep in his arms, leaving a half awake John enamored with her beauty. This would be the first time seeing her rest, not awkwardly on an airplane, but peacefully sleeping, on his chest and in his arms, where he knew she belonged. He kissed her on the forehead, and fell into a deep slumber.

The galaxy’s only star rose early and left a hazy glow on the sleeping couple. Margot was the first one to wake up, feeling sore from the night’s events. She looked down and found her skin bruised with red and purple lightning kisses. There were feathers sprinkled everywhere in the room. _There must have been a pillow fight,_ she thought. She quickly dressed herself and rolled her eyes whenever John snored too loudly.

This time, she didn’t leave a note, walking out and leaving the sign to swing once again on Suite 101.


	7. A Modest Introduction

John sighed and rolled over, expecting to feel the warm softness of her body. Instead, he only felt nothing. Opening his eyes, he panicked with the sheer thought of her disappearing branded onto the back of his eyelids. She was gone, unfortunately, again. 

“God-fucking-damnit!” He yelled out, slamming his arm onto the fluffy white blanket. 

Her game was getting old, no doubt. Why couldn’t she be like every other fuckin’ girl and just stay put? He thought. However, as he conjured the thought into his mind, he was able to answer his own question. He liked her  _ because  _ she wasn’t like any other girl, but then again, aren’t all girls different? This one just has issues staying in the same place. He was at war with himself, and at war with the girl who couldn’t bother to commit to anything. He couldn’t distinguish whether her departures were on a whim decisions or hastily contrived insults that were stronger than a simple, “I don’t like you.” 

He angrily rolled out of bed and spiked a pillow into the ground, muttering a string of curses as he got dressed for a new day of filming. Today, they would be filming another musical part of Help!, where he and the band would sing “Another Girl,” which ironically enough, depicted John’s relationship with Margot. Thinking of the song, he ached for her, and yet, he never felt so alive, so inebriated in the midst of the perfect exotic storm- in this case, it was never the location in which he thought of, but the girl whose last name and origins he never even knew. 

He heard a loud banging on the door, and although it inevitably wasn’t her, a part of him lit up, hoping that it was. He walked to the door and opened it, disappointed at what he saw. 

“Hurry up, the car’s here already,” Paul pointed down the hall with his thumb, then looked around the room and smirked. “Seems like you had a fun night, eh? It’s not a real party without a pillow fight.” 

John looked around the room, and no doubt, his hotel suite had been blanketed with white feathers. “What can I say? It was a damn party, all right.” he kicked at some of the feathers.

Ringo and George came down the hall as well, peeking into the room. “What’d you do to her, Lennon? Kill her?” George asked. 

Before John could answer, Ringo cut him off. “Speaking of her, where is she?” 

“Don’t tell me she left again!” Paul groaned.

John sighed, shaking his head and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “She must’ve slipped out while I was sleepin’,”

“There’s one thing I must ask you,” Paul started off. “Did you try again? Like how her note told you to?”

“Yeah I fuckin’ did!” John replied. “Better than the first time, I must admit. Well, let’s get on, then.” He pushed past the Beatles crowding by the door and made his way downstairs, towards the elevator; the others followed suit as well. 

In those hours of filming, John wished Margot was there with him on the gorgeous beach, dancing with him instead of these extras, although the water was too cold for his taste. He wondered where she ran off to, and if she even cared about him at all. It wasn’t often that he cared about the women he shagged. Constantly hearing Paul’s song and pretending to performing only amplified his longing for her, and how badly he wished to leave in search for her. Luckily, they were taking a break soon, and he was to jump onto the opportunity before it was presented to him. He took a cab straight into the heart of the city and prayed that he would find her amongst the thousands that flooded the streets. It was about lunchtime, so he assumed he could find her somewhere unique, a place where his brain could have never summoned in its own material. It was already a difficult task, and it was to be amped up tenfold simply because he was a Beatle, and he was mobbed by fans wherever he went. He put his hat and sunglasses on, and prayed that no one approach him on his quest. 

He walked the streets of Nassau, the same street where he and Margot ran across the other night, hoping to see her once again. He searched through the shops and various stores, aiming to find her, for what seemed like an eternity and a half. The occasional fan would come up and ask him if he was John Lennon, and he would shake his head and quickly walk away; his heart and mind primarily fixated themselves on her, and wherever she would be. Though he would never admit it, he would search for as long as it takes to find Margot because people like her were only found once in a lifetime, he felt. 

With increasing desperation, he entered a small cafe and his first speculation had been accurate. 

She was there, and she had looked so cool, a hurricane in all seasons.

He quickly made his way to her table, stripping off the hat and glasses as he took a seat. 

“You never stay still, don’t you?” He asked her angrily.

“Well, I’m still right now, aren’t I?” She replied coyly, sitting still in her chair. 

“You know what I mean, Margot!” John replied. “I thought last night was perfect, didn’t you? What, am I not good enough for you or something? Too embarrassed to be fuckin’ a Beatle?”

As he sputtered those words, he gradually couldn’t believe they were coming out of his mouth, shocked at his sudden possessiveness, his attachment and insecurity. He was aware of his status, his talent and fame; why wouldn’t anyone want him? Perhaps, he liked her, because she was the only one who didn’t like him back. 

“Last night was grand. Thanks for the bruises, by the way,” Margot cooly replied, leaning to the side of the table and lifting her skirt up to reveal a large blue bruise. “I told you, Johnny, it’s hard to win over someone like me. Don’t get so worked up because I don’t revere you like everyone else on this planet.” 

He felt as though he got slapped in the face; she might as well have done that, because his ego was as bruised as her body, and he could feel his ears get hot. What kind of game was she playing? Whatever it was, he was beginning to get sick of it, regardless of how much he adored her, as he was often too adjusted to having things handed to him. If not, his pestering was enough to win anything over. However, this was not the case, and she wouldn’t budge. He stared at her once more, and was certain that he was leering into the eyes of the tiger, instead of the lady; if she was playing hard to get, then she deserved about 50 Oscars, if the coin landed on tails, he needed to get the hell out of there and get over it. 

“You and I made a deal,” he leaned towards her, lowering his voice and his eyes menacingly, and to Margot, it was pretty seductive. “I don’t give up so easily either, Angel Face.”

“Then don’t be a baby about it, baby,” she smirked at him. “I’m not so fond of sticking around the same places for too long. But this morning was more of an obligation, rather than a flee. I needed to go back to my suite. By the way, I forgot to tell you this: I’m a few doors down from you. Pretty mad, huh?”

He scoffed, pulling out a cigarette and exhaling. She was the utmost irresponsible, reckless, inconsistent, and untrustworthy witch he has ever had the dishonor of coming across. 

“You’re fuckin’ unbelievable, you know that?” 

“Isn’t that why you adore me?” 

He really felt as though every time an airy statement she exhaled doubled as a vocal tranquilizer that went straight through his third rib, every syllable dripping with poignance. She gleamed at his defeat the way that was reminiscent of soldiers, puffing their chest out as though they’ve won every war they’ve fought in. She really shut him up, and it was glorious. 

Accepting and acknowledging his defeat, the slightest of a grin crept up onto his face, cloying and syrupy with adoration in its shyest form. 

“I really do adore you,” he had a finger under her chin. “You’re really gonna make this hard for me, yeah?”

“Where would be the fun in making things easy, anyways?” 

John had to agree with her on that one. Things were in fact easy, too easy for him, to consider anything to be serious anymore. He had always brushed off and denounced those who took life too seriously; savoring life as it was now was the best things could get, it was better than dwelling when you’re too old to walk, that’s for damn sure. 

“I suppose you’re right on that one, luv.” He finally agreed with her. He glanced at his watch and realized he had twenty minutes to get back on set; initially, he wasn’t even supposed to leave the location at all. “Shit, I have to go back on set soon for that bloody film. You should come along, you know, keep me company and all that other good stuff.”

She raised her eyebrows at the suggestion, taking a sip of her coffee and shrugging. “I don’t see why I can’t. It’s not like I have anything else to do right now,” 

“Well, I mean, I’m here for a reason, aren’t I?” he chuckled at her and winked, inferring that he wanted her to  _ do him _ . 

“That smirk looks adorable on your face,” Margot’s London accent spilled like sand in an hourglass. “You know what else does?”

“Hm?”

“My coffee.”

John stood up and instinctively let his reflexes possess him. “You better fucking not!” 

Margot laughed and followed suit, standing up and brushing herself off, her tight skirt and shirt accentuating her figure. “Then behave,” she looked at him, taking note of how still he was. “Good boy.” she patted his head. 

Realizing he was barefaced in public, John scrambled for his sunglasses and hat. “Shit, wouldn’t want to be spotted now, would we?” He grabbed Margot’s hand and led her out of the cafe, where they searched for a cab. He stole a look at his watch again and realized he would soon be late. 

“Quick! There’s a cab right there!” Margot pointed at a cab, with a couple crawling into the back seat. It was unknown as to who pulled the other first, because they both ran towards the car, with John pushing the couple out of the car. She cackled at the sight and left her hand on John’s knee. 

“You’re a fuckin’ prick!” she exclaimed and faced him, the softening echoes of her laughter dying off. John placed his hand over hers. 

“You’re fuckin’ this prick!” he shot back at her, his high pitched laughter filling the air, its tone rivalling the chime of a thousand bells. He placed his forehead against hers. 

“Don’t get too cocky,” she smacked his arm playfully. She thanked the driver and gave a heavy tip for their lewd quarrels and immaturity. 

“Follow me,” John said and grabbed her hand, where he led her to the set on the beach. 

“Wow,” she exhaled and lowered her large cat-eye sunglasses. 

“John Lennon! Where have you been? We’ve been lookin’ for you for an hour and a ‘alf! We thought you’ve gotten trampled by a bloody mob or something!” Brian stomped over to the couple, kicking sand with his Italian shoes. 

“I picked up a treat along the way,” he replied. “I reckon you to stay away though, she bites.”

The Jewish manager looked over at her, a sudden feeling of timidness washing over him as though she casted a spell with a simple wink of the eye, belittled immediately in her stinging presence. It was as though she loomed large and proud, a tragic Sun in the company of a tea candle. He couldn’t help but go a little green with envy at the sight of Lennon’s latest opponent- in this case,  _ his _ opponent. 

“I’m Brian Epstein, pleased to make your acquaintance,” he pulled out a handkerchief and patted his forehead with it. 

“Charmed,” Margot replied, smiling enigmatically. “My name’s Margot.”

Paul, Ringo, and George stood off to the side and ogled at her as well; she was very petite in comparison to John, portraying him with Sasquach-like proportions that were almost too comical. No doubt, the others had been slightly interested in her as well. 

“Let’s meet me bandmates, then,” John walked her to the rest of the Beatles and this would be the closest he would get showing off a trophy to his mates, a living, breathing, beautiful trophy that ran away too often. 

“So you’re the bird that’s been causing John’s hair to fall out,” George spoke up first, surprisingly. “He’s going bald, you know.” Margot chuckled at his comment. She took off her sunglasses and analyzed the faces she saw too often. 

“You’ve been drivin’ him mad! And it’s quite a show, I must admit,” Ringo piped up. 

“Yeah! Leavin’ ‘im all those notes and all that,” Paul winked at her. “John can’t shut up about you, it’s very tiring but it keeps him out of our hair, so, keep up the good work, Margot! She’s quite the woman, Johnny.” 

John suppressed his annoyance, his nostrils flaring slightly at the undeviating teasing and flirting. She looked up at him and he shook his head in response, their chemistry brewing as it met the precipice of intimacy- they didn’t need words to communicate. 

“I didn’t know you liked me this much,  _ Johnny _ ,” Margot chipped in with the teasing. She glanced back at the rest of the Beatles. “You’re all taller in person, especially you.” She looked at Ringo, as did the others. Then again, she was significantly shorter than most people older than the age of 13. 

“I honestly imagined you to look like Bardot by the way John felt about you or somethin’,”George replied, knowing that they all reserved adoration for girls with blonde hair ever since they were teenagers. In Harrison’s mind, what he saw was better than what he had expected. “I just expected you to be blonde, but you’re the complete opposite.”

“Is that so?” she replied, having it come out as a statement rather than a question, clearly entertained by how the Beatles had been entertained by her. “Maybe that’s a good thing then. Anyway, what’s with the set up? A little beach party?”

“Yeah, actually,” Paul nodded. “Why John, you should let her stay for it! She can dance in the background or something. It’d be a fun sight to see.”

John shook his head at the suggestion, refusing the others to ogle at her body at the beach! It was basically open season on the poor girl, and not even he could handle her fully. 

“Hell no, Paul, she’s probably busy, right, Margot?” he looked at her. 

“Actually, like I said before John, I have nothing to do. I would love nothing more than to accompany you in your movie!” She was sickeningly sweet with her remarks. 

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ,” John groaned.    
  



	8. Pair-a-Dice

“Ah, cheers to that then!” Paul grinned. “Ay, Mal, we’ve got another extra ‘ere, help her get dressed, will you?” He turned his head back to talk to Mal. Mal nodded and walked over to the group. 

“Hello, there, I’m Mal. I hope the boys aren’t causing you too much trouble,” he chuckled and placed his hand out for Margot to shake. Her small, pale, and slender hand gently shook his. 

“Margot,” she introduced herself. “Oh, they’re not. If anything, I’m the one causing trouble.” she said calmly, smiling. 

“So we’ve got a cheeky one here, I see!” he bellowed. “Hats off to that, miss. Come ‘ead and let’s get you fitted, then.” Margot nodded and followed suit, sauntering off on the golden sand and turning around to stick her tongue out at John, Paul, George, and Ringo. Once the larger man and Margot disappeared into a trailer, the band stopped watching them and looked at John. 

“What a woman,” Paul sighed. “She’s a strange one, isn’t she?”

“That’s why John loves her so much,” George pointed out. 

“Ey! Watch your damn mouth Harrison,” John snapped. “Another peep out of you and I’ll have your lips sewn together and you won’t live to eat another meal!” 

In all honesty, it would be so easy to love her, and he had already been half in love with her by their second encounter, or so he believed. He often denounced the concept of true love, completely paradoxical and hypocritical of the lyrics he emanated on stage. Once had there been a time where he truly loved Cyn, and he still did, but too much exploring and distance had allowed the knots of their relationship to diminish and tear away with no abandon. He knew for a fact he could love the dark haired woman who tormented him too often, it was almost too easy to love her. 

But, he didn’t, just yet. 

“Alright, alright, you two, cut it out, or neither of you won’t live at all!” Ringo cut in. The three of them raised their hands into air as a notion of surrender. 

“Well, easy come easy go,” Paul replied. He opened his mouth to speak again but before he could get a syllable out, he turned his head and raised his eyebrow at the sight that was approaching them. 

Margot, supple yet untouchable in a daring black one piece, ambled towards the Beatles in make-believe slow motion, each cell in the celluloid strip framing one step at a time. She had been aware of her beauty and she made the slight effort to swing her hips more than often. John and the others watched her approach them, all of their chests tightening with anticipation for her next move. 

“You lot act like you’ve never seen a woman before,” Margot laughed. “I’d tell you to take a picture because it’ll last longer, but I’d prefer to be forgotten, thank you very much.”

“Come back to my room later and we’ll have some fun with a camera,” John replied and reached out for her waist; she shot him a strange look, but allowed him to rest his arms on her. 

“Oh, get off it, Lennon, you big pervert,” Paul groaned. “You look great, Margot.” He winked at her and Margot smiled bitterly. He walked away with the rest of the Beatles to another part of the set.  

“I’d eat you up for dinner,” John said lowly to her. In response, she rolled her eyes. 

“Can’t you contain yourself for one goddamn moment?” Margot asked. “Oh wait, you’re like an untrained dog, so probably not then.”

“I wouldn’t mind takin’ a few lessons from you, you know,” he chuckled. “Come on, we’ve got scenes to shoot and shoots to scene!”

Margot followed John, fluffing up her long, wavy hair as she approached the set, where a man walked up to her and introduced himself as Dick Lester. He narrowed down his directions for her, as she was simply an extra, instructing her to dance. It was a pretty shallow job for a girl, but getting paid to look beautiful was always a plus in her eyes. 

“Oh dear, this is going to be a challenge,” she remarked sarcastically as she splashed the ocean’s tide with her foot. A few seconds later, Another Girl by the Beatles blared through faraway speakers, and the Beatles began to dance and lip sync to Paul’s song. Margot once again allowed the music to possess her and she moved with the beat. In some other shots, she and John were together, either staring at each other or gazing into the camera with flowered branches subtly and beautifully obscuring some lines on their faces. Though they didn’t have many chances to fully converse with each other, her adoration for John grew slightly during her shots with him, as their eyes created a golden haze when his almond shaped, brown eyes, met hers, hazel and endearing. Particularly in one scene, he picked her up bridal-style and sung to her, to which Margot brushed off but mentally enjoyed. 

The shooting wrapped up as the sun began to set, the sky swirling with pinks and oranges that artists could never perfectly replicate on a blank canvas. John walked Margot back to the dressing room trailer, resting his hand on the door while she walked up the steps of the metal box. 

“That was fun,” She simply said. “Time to take this death suit off.”

“So soon, eh?” He opened the door to the trailer for her. “The gang and I are headin’ to the casino after this. You should come and blow some chips with me.” 

“Aw, asking me out on another date? Seems like you really can’t get enough of me.” She ruffled his hair and closed the door on him, stripping down from her bathing suit and into her original outfit. 

“Ey, I’ll do whatever it takes to win our deal,” He grabbed her hand and led her down the steps of the trailer. “A cab should be here soon, you better not go running off again.”

“It’s not like I can, anyways!” She yanked her hand, but John didn’t let go. “Might as well handcuff my wrist to yours, for Christ’s sake!”

“I can arrange that you know,” he laughed. “Though, I can see how hard it would be, as I play guitar and all…” he teased her and nudged her shoulder with his slightly. They walked hand and hand through the sand and towards the road, where a line of cabs waited for the crew and the Beatles. 

“After you, miss,” He held the door open for her before crawling in himself. Soon enough, Margot and John would be on their way back to the resort, where they would separate into their individual hotel rooms to freshen up after a long day of sun. John had finished before she did, and he headed down to her suite, knocking on the door. 

“Special delivery!” Lennon exclaimed once she opened the door. 

She took a drag of her cigarette and looked at him, dashing in his tailored suit and cleaned hair. His eyes widened once they adjusted to the woman in front of him, smoke slightly obscuring his sight of her; her hair was down in large waves, and her hazel eyes had been accentuated with dark makeup and red lipstick. She wore another tight, black dress that hugged her slim yet curvy stature eloquently. She looked like the night, and he wanted to reach out and touch the dark sky. “Where is it? Is it a moped?”

“No.”

“You got me plane tickets to Paris.”

“No.”

“A pet snake?”

“What the hell, woman, you’re lookin’ right at it!”

“Oh,” Margot replied, quickly closing the door until John jammed his foot in the space before it could fully close.

“Not so fast, my pretty, we’ve got a date.” He pushed the door completely and shook his foot. “Stop shuttin’ the damn door on me foot, you’re gonna break it.” He said as he walked in and observed the place. 

“Oh, just make yourself at home!” She glanced at him and said sarcastically. 

“Trust me, I will. And hurry up, will ya?” 

Margot flicked his ear, resulting in a loud, “OW!” to fill the room’s air. “Okay, I’m ready, Lennon. Prepare to lose your money, honey,”

“I ain’t a loser, Angelface,” He walked towards the door and opened it. 

“Really? That one song says otherwise. What was it called again?  _ I’m a Loser?” _ She snickered and walked past him out of the door and into the hall. 

“Hey!” He called out and ran up to her, grabbing her by the waist and placing her over his shoulder. “You said you weren’t a Beatles fan!”

“I’m not,” she huffed, while pounding his back. “I just remember it because I thought it was a funny song! Now put me down you ogre!”

“Sure, baby,” He snorted. “Nah, I think you like it when I carry you like this.” 

Margot sighed in frustration and kneed him in the stomach, which seemed to do the trick.

“FUCK!”

She was like sand, slipping out of his palms faster than he had initially obtained her. 

“You might wanna think twice on that,” She said as she walked over to the elevator and pressed the “Down” arrow. Unusually quick, the lift had arrived instantly and opened its heavy doors for the couple. 

“You’re gonna regret that, luv,” John replied. “Especially when I’m going to be bringing in all the chips!”

“We’ll see about that,” She chuckled, and he slid his hand into hers. “Your ass is grass.”

“And you’ll be handing your ass over to me once the night ends. You’ll be dust.” He taunted back. 

Their lift ride had finally ended, prompting John and Margot to walk hand in hand into the zeitgeist of decadence itself, where the pompous wealthy and overly eager indulged in their gambling and sucked on their cancer sticks, filling the air with their draining life supply. There was something almost nostalgic in the glowing, neon lights and bumbling, golden noise that emanated from the ways the slot machines alerted their shrill urgencies, the ways dealers raked in the chips, borderline communications amongst inanimate objects; however, perhaps it was the people who were the very heart of the beautiful commotion. Margot and John scanned their eyes along the sea of adult fun and decided to head over to a roulette table, with both of them placing their bets on opposing colors. The miniscule, metallic ball rolled along the spinner until it finally landed on John’s black, a notion that meant that he would be rewarded with $5,000. Margot smirked at him, impressed by his tick of luck. She walked over to him from the other side of the table and reckoned that they go meet up with the others. He nodded, eager to show his recent winnings to his mates. 

“Yeah, Johnny boy!” Ringo called out, raising two fists into the air.

“You’re gonna share that lot with me, yeah?” George laughed and reached out for John’s chips, causing him to protectively fend off his earnings. 

“Holy shit! Holy shit Johnny!” Paul yelled. “You better use that money of yours to treat your lady, you lucky shit!”

Margot nodded and threw her head back and laughed. “You should, you know.” John pulled her in tightly and pressed her to his chest, kissing the top of her head. Realistically, that amount of money wasn’t anything unusual, especially given that they were the most popular band in the world, but the rush of having luck and chance on your side had intoxicated all of them all too well. Soon enough, the rest of them wanted to be as lucky as John, and they all crowded around a Craps table. Too involved in their dice, the Beatles did not blink an eye away from the table before realizing that Margot once again, left. 

John looked up and frantically turned around, looking for her in the crowd and smoke. His high had quickly reached a low, and he sobered up at the fact that she was gone. 

Again.

“Where the fuck did she go?” John whispered loudly into Paul’s ear. He stopped leaning over the table and looked around as well. 

“Man, she does not like stayin’ put,” Paul noted. “Maybe she went to the loo?”

Though plausible, John knew she wasn’t there, though he wished she was. He noticed a slip of paper on the ledge of the table, similar to the one he received on the plane; he opened it, and in the same messy handwriting, it read, “CATCH ME IF YOU CAN”. Rather than looking for her and always giving in, he brushed her off and told the others that he was going to get a drink from the bar. 

He shook his head as he sat down, staring at the note. At this point, he didn’t bother looking. 

 


	9. Bon-Adventure

"Scotch and Coke please," John murmured to the bartender, still staring at the note. It was as though someone had drenched his fiery excitement using an arsenal of firefighter equipment; he knew his days with her were counting down, and because of that, he _had_ to eat up every second he shared the same air as her- sharing the same Moon couldn't suffice. They had gotten off so well! And he mentally thanked the nonexistent gods for the opportunity of immortalizing their love on the celluloid, soon to be projected onto the silver screen in months ahead. The bartender slightly raised his brows at Lennon's malaise, curious as to what the ripped piece of paper had said.

"Whatcha got there? Fake digits?" The bartender glanced over as he slid the drink to the British man.

John shrugged and nodded, "Yeah, basically." He took a sip and thanked the man. He then looked to his left and right before noticing that the girl that occupied his mind wasn't as far as he expected; in fact, she had only been a few bar stools away. The man behind the bar opened his mouth to speak but John put a finger up and stood up, quickly making his way over to Margot.

"What the hell is this?" He firmly pressed the piece of paper on the bar and glared at her.

"You're really gonna act like this whenever I leave your side? Well, you've caught me," Margot glanced up and sipped her martini. "Didn't think it would take this long, though. What was the hold up? Giving up on our deal already, I see."

Livid, he shook his head and cynically laughed. "Yeah, I just about did, but I'm not going to lose your fucking games,"

"Well, that's good to hear. But let me ask you something," Margot replied, and John lifted his head up to accept. "Why are you so obsessed with me and all of this anyways? By the looks of it, I'm just a hedonist with no direction and you're a man bored with his life, ironically enough."

"Rich and famous at a young age, married with a son, you've got it all," She continued.

"And I'm still not satisfied," John replied, sitting on the stool next to hers. He felt pathetic as she examined him as though he were on a petri dish, magnified under the hot lights of a microscope. "Yeah, I'm a selfish prick, I know, luv."

He turned on the stool to face her. "I just want you. Madly. Can't a man want somethin'?"

"All you want is a distraction from your pathetic life," She coolly replied, lighting a cigarette.

At this point his ego had been badly wounded by her jeering remarks; most often he would have retorted with something clever, but he had gone far in too deep for this to be lighthearted banter. She had been hot and cold consistently, which was easily expected, but her departures were always so unwarranted that he was floored whenever she wasn't by his side. He was frustrated by her constant absence, but perhaps, it also prompted, encouraged him to try harder. He always felt the need to touch her, to feel her and make sure that she was there and not smoke and mirrors; love wasn't a cheap magic trick, after all. He took a moment to introspect on what she had said, and for some reason the word "pathetic" had seared the most into his pale skin, poignant with the sound of her voice. There was no way he could have been bored already, perhaps tired, but never disinterested at the possibility of a new day. He was the most famous rockstar in the world, and here he was, pining for a woman who was only half there. The most preeminent dichotomy in his life was his repertoire of love songs, which sadly did not portray his love life. Not that many songs had been written about Cynthia, though he did adore her; she bared his child and their marriage had been two parts obligation and one part desire. He loved her, but the love he had was worn out and tattered like a favorite book whose covers were barely bound with too many dog-eared pages. Cynthia was his blonde, white angel, but she was no match for the black magic woman. Margot was not a distraction, but a new chapter.

" _I'm_ the pathetic one?" John sneered, taken aback. "You said it yourself, you've got no direction! All you do is screw around and leave! Might as well just live your life aimlessly and accomplish nothing. You better watch that mouth of yours, sweetheart." He said all of this with half defense, half teasing. He bluffed. He had no idea what she had done in her life, her accomplishments, her skills, not even her last name- all of which he ached to learn.

"Please," Margot placed her hand up. "You don't know a goddamn thing about me. You must be bloody bored if you really believe that the first woman who doesn't stay around like a housewife is going to change your life and take you on all these whirlwind adventures."

In all honesty, she really did adore John, but if she was going to be with him, he couldn't be so adamant about love, so desperate. This was no playing "hard to get", but a way for him to grow out of this shallow belief that his life had been nothing before she had shown up. It wasn't up to her to show him how to appreciate the universe; that was all for himself to discover on his own.

"I don't have to be bored to believe that," He spat. "You must be bored out of your wits to be toyin' around with people like this."

"I went to go get a drink, for Christ's sake!"

"Oh sod off, you know what I bloody meant."

"I do whatever I want, so what, John?" Margot said, exasperated. "Does it really bother you that much?"

"God, you're makin' me sound like a real villain out here," He chuckled. "I don't wanna sound like some sad ol' controlling fuck. You and I had a deal and I guess havin' you away from me just drives me mad. Just be with me for the next two weeks and let's see where this takes us."

Margot shot him a look of disbelief.

"Please."

Another look.

"Please, just let me have you so we can actually get to know each other, because I know I'll get you in the end, luv. Also, because I know you and I are the same, I feel it. Just let me get to know you."

She took a swig of her drink. "Sure," she took a drag from her cigarette. "I can't stand you, by the way."

"I can't stand you either," He lowered his eyes and voice, a clear and blatant display of their perennial sexual tension.

Averting her eyes, she stood up. "Let's continue this conversation at the beach. It's too stuffy in here for my liking,"

Eager, Lennon stood up and followed in a way he felt was something short of a dog and its master, though the dynamic disgusted him. They snaked their way through the money hungry patrons and sighed once they reached the fresh, night air. She reached out for his hand and grabbed it, leading the way to the street, towards the sand and ocean. Something about the velvety, indigo colored sky made Margot soften up a bit, and if she focused well enough, she could see silver specks along the giant blanket. Once they hit the sand, she took off her heels, and sat down on the soft sand.

John wasted no time. "Do you even have a last name?"

Her eyes widened, clearly taken aback by his strange question. "Of course I have a last name. Who doesn't?" She realized that she never told him her last name. "It's Bonaventure, by the way."

"Margot Bonaventure?"

"Yes, I-"

He bursted out with laughter, though it wasn't malicious in the slightest. "You've got the most adorable damn name I've ever heard of!"

She bashfully smiled and rolled her eyes as a response. "Shut up. Like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I'm French."

He studied her facial features closely, dangerously close to kissing her- he ached to do it, but he knew not to jump the gun at this moment. She didn't look particularly French, or British, for that matter. In fact, he didn't know her origins at all.

"You don't look like you've got a lick of French in you," He muttered.

"Of course I don't! Because I've also got Lebanese and Korean blood too," She replied as she grasped a handful of sand.

"More like the blood of a tiger," He was amused by her answer, as he gained more knowledge on her. "You've got the entire globe in you! I'm just some simple Irish Brit, nothing too special, unlike you, Magnificent, or should I say, Bonaventure."

"Hey, I'm no star either. I'm just a girl who enjoys life's pleasures," Margot replied. "I still don't understand why you're so stuck on me." She admitted.

"Like you've said, you're a girl who enjoys life's pleasures," He pointed out. "Maybe that's why I'm so glued to you."

"You have a wife, Lennon," She said. Her voice had seemed crestfallen.

Margot had cheated in the past too; initially, she didn't feel a thing-no sympathy or pity for the heart she broke, simply sweeping the fragments of a glass heart under the rug. Her infidelity had been quite a mess and regardless of how indifferent she felt over cheaters, she did believe that the Devil's work could be easily avoided with a breakup. She felt a pang of pity for Lennon's wife, however, for she knew she was in love with him, nursing his child and probably waiting for him to come home.

"I do," He nodded. "Doesn't mean I can't enjoy you, though. You and her are complete opposites, honestly."

She snickered. "Yeah, she enjoys your presence,"

"Oh, come off it," He laughed, playfully shoving her shoulder. "If you didn't like my presence, why are you here, then? Stop pretendin' that you hate me so much."

"I'm not pretending," Margot said with a grin on her face.

"Is there an award for bein' the worst actress? If so, you've got your name on it!" He laughed, and she began to laugh too. "There's those pearly whites. I've finally got you to smile!"

"Oh alright, I don't exactly hate your presence, Johnny. I'm indifferent, it's not every day where you can have a celebrity dying at your feet" She said as she laughed.

"My, that's a lot fuckin' better than what I expected," He said sarcastically. "Anyways, tell me more about yourself, woman."

"What a loaded request," She scoffed. "Hm, let me think. I design lingerie. I was 'sposed to head off to med school to be a nurse, but I think I'd just end up killing the patients."

John laughed once again, deeply enamored with every word that dripped off her pink lips. Internally, he gleamed at the fact that she designed lingerie, meaning that she would have an extensive collection of delicates that he loved so much on women. He pictured her in all the possibilities that his vast mind could conjure up. Alongside that, she had admitted that she was clumsy, and though a rather strange thing to fawn over, he couldn't help but adore her blatant honesty; she was ungraceful, just like him. He stared at her and said nothing.

"What is it? Is there something on my face?" She reached up to her cheek.

"You're a goddamn dream," He said, cupping her face into his hands and kissing her hard.

"More like a nightmare, old sport," She patted his head.

"Yeah right, you couldn't scare a goddamn bug if you tried to."

"Well, I think I'm doin' a swell job by scaring a certain Beatle."

"Cheeky, eh? You act like you're not scared of anything but whenever I turn around, you've ran off like you've seen a ghost, or somethin'," John pointed out. "So, be honest and tell me what keeps you up at night!"

"Commitment, I suppose," She said blatantly. "I can't stand feeling trapped in one spot, it makes my skin itch. I'd rather be out there on adventures, travelling and experiencing new things. What's the point of living if you're going to be in one place? Doesn't seem like living to me."

"So _that's_ why you keep disappearing. Scared of sticking around with boring men who can't keep their eyes off of you," He mused. He agreed with every word she said, gradually falling deeper into his adoration, for she was something better than he had expected, with a beautiful face and mind. "You and I are going to go on an adventure."

"You're already an adventure," She said half genuinely, half sarcastically. He was interesting, no doubt about that. He had been wittier and more eccentric than any other person she had ever known, and despite her fragmented retreats, she had kept coming back for a reason, for she indeed was drawn to his incendiary nature, savoring and interested with his energy. He perceived her as a challenge, but to her, he served as the noise that distracted her so much from the mundane and monotonous in the world. Perhaps she had been too hard on him. She could see herself in his eyes; she wouldn't mind being with him for longer than expected.

"No, I'm dead-on serious 'ere," He said urgently. "Think of one thing you wanted to do here. There is no way you planned on stayin' here and sleeping in your hotel room all day, getting fat from gourmet meals."

Margot sighed, vulnerable and full of hope. She leaned back and laid on the sand. "I want to go island hopping and explore without a care in the world. Visit all the beaches and go into caves and all that,"

Excited at the possibilities, his eyes lit up. "Let's go then, you and I could be adventurers, hunt animals and climb mountains and all that other good stuff. Adventure is practically your last name anyways, Bon-adventure."

"You're kidding, aren't you?" she looked at him."Bonaventure means good luck, by the way, you twit."

"Not at all, Mars. You and I could be like Tarzan and Jane for cryin' out loud!" He pressed his forehead against her. "Oh same thing!"

"Well, that would explain a lot of stuff, wouldn't it?" She chuckled and punched him in the gut. "Also, Mars? Really?"

"Shit!" He cried out, then rolled over, so that he was on top of her. "Also, yeah, you're pretty outta this world, like Mars. I'm clever."

"You're callin' me a planet? Gee, John, if you wanted to tell me that I'm getting heavy, just say so," She teased.

"Just take the damn compliment, woman!" He pinned her arms up against the sand.

"Well this feels all too familiar."

"Let's do it again, yeah?"

Margot kneed him in the stomach. "You're an idiot." Once he recoiled, she pushed him off of her and straddled him.

"Nah, maybe a swine, but not an idiot," He snorted like a pig. "Anyway, when are we starting this journey? I got two weeks here and then I'm gone. Better savor your time with me."

 _Shit,_ she thought. She knew that their affair had to be ephemeral, but she hadn't actually acknowledged how short their time together would actually be, a slight ticking time bomb. Time was never on anyone's side, was it?

"Tomorrow."


	10. Bon Voyage

John grinned so widely that Margot couldn't help but smile back at the man.

"Let's do it, then! I can hire a private guide and everythin'!"

"Are you sure? What about your movie and all that?" Margot asked. She played with the ends of her hair, genuinely, and slightly concerned with the genuinity of Lennon's willingness to do such an extravagant feat. John nodded quickly and grabbed her hand.

"We're practically done with filming it. It's not a problem for me," He replied.

"You can't be serious," She shook her head in disbelief.

"Oh, but I am!" He pulled her close to his chest.

"So, you're really just going to drop everything for a week of fun with some girl you hardly know?"

"You're Margot Bonaventure," He replied. "That's all I need to know."

She shrugged, giving into his disposition. Initially she hadn't felt anything when realizing that she would be vacationing with John Lennon for a week. As she laid down with the strange man beside her, she absorbed the possibilities of the adventures she knew were to come. They laid there, with only the sound of Lennon's hum filling the air with saccharine tunes; this was the calm before a great storm, and they both knew it. She couldn't help but smile at the fact itself.

Before it got too late, they silently stood up and walked back to the hotel, hand in hand. John quickly let go and slapped her butt.

"Hey!" Margot punched him in the stomach.

"Ow! What was tha' for?" He slurred, doubling over in pain.

"We're not even inside yet and you can't control yourself for a minute, huh?" She shook her head at him, clearly amused by his pain.

"Why do you punch like a man!" He yelled at her.

"Probably because I'm more of a man than you ever will be," She replied, walking towards the hotel. John remained hunched over and caught up to speed with her.

"I can prove you wrong right now!" Lennon said, punching the elevator button with his thumb.

"You're proving that you're a loser to me right now," Margot laughed as she walked into the lift.

"It's so hard to win with you, you damn witch," John said. He rested his hand against the wall, above her shoulder, and faced her.

"You're just mad you're under my spell," She said confidently. "You toad."

"Did I say witch? I meant princess. You know what the princess does to the toad," He smiles cheekily at her.

"You should try eating frog legs. They're pretty delicious," Margot replied.

"Cannibalism is looked down upon, woman," John stepped out the elevator and grabbed her hand, leading them to his suite.

"Only in some cultures," She strode by him and sat down on his bed, although the scratchy material of her dress had made it so that her skin of her legs was sensitive and slightly reddening. John, tired of the day's events, took off his boots and had a running start, pinning her down to the bed by her shoulders.

"Hah! You thought I was gonna forget our conversation earlier," He said out of breath.

"This is nothing. You and I both know that," She claimed, clearly unphased by what happened. "Try harder, Lennon."

"I will," He peppered her neck with kisses and left bites in between in his words. She rolled on top of him and grabbed him by his hair.

* * *

"RISE AND SHINE, ANGEL FACE!" John threw a teddy bear that sat on the TV stand at the sleeping woman, who was snoring in his bed. She flinched, her eyes immediately opening with great agitation. "We've got a boat to catch!"

"I hate you."

"Mm? What was that?" He called out from the bathroom.

"I SAID I HATE YOU."

"I love you too, Mars."

Margot inhaled a sharp breath and her eyes shot open, an electric feeling jolting at her fingertips. How could he, of all people, say the word so easily? Especially to someone he just met? Loving her would be immensely unrealistic, stupid even. She didn't know why men told her they loved her because she never saw a reason. Often times she didn't even care when they mustered up what little courage they had to say it to her. Now, however, she felt estranged in her own skin. She rolled off of the bed and strode to the bathroom.

"Get real, Lennon," She pushed him aside and grabbed his toothbrush; there hadn't been enough time last night to go back to her room and take her belongings. John wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Nothing is real," He said into her ear.

Margot spit the foam out from her mouth. "Exactly," She continued to brush her teeth.

John contemplated his earlier statement; he wasn't even sure as to why he said it. Perhaps it was to get on her nerves, or maybe he did. He highly doubted that it was the second one, but she was too easy to adore, though she was so aggressive in her nature. He could see him loving her, better than anything else he could have done in his life. His train of thought crashed instantly as it was interrupted by a loud slam of the door, the telltale sound of Margot exiting the premises. Instead of panicking, he reminded himself to trust in her. He hoped that she only left to shower and pack her things. The cab wouldn't be arriving for another two hours, and he knew he would be walking straight into a hurricane.

Two hours later

Margot knocked on the door and in a slightly high-pitched tone, she said, "Room service!"

Immediately, John opened the door, appreciating what his eyes met. Her hair was half up, and her eyes had been obscured by her large cat sunglasses.

"Where's the full course meal?" He asked.

"You're looking at it," She pushed past him and flopped onto the bed. There were hotel staff in his room, packing his luggage onto a cart; they soon handled her luggage and left the room.

"For once I agree with you," Lennon chuckled. "Come 'ead, we're leavin' now!" He swung open the door for her and paced down the hallway.

Margot blew air from her mouth, bracing herself for the whirlwind adventure with the celebrity man that she knew would cause too much trouble. She held his hand, not so sure whether it was because she was allowing the in-the-moment excitement manifest her physical body, or that she was really warming up to him. Still, she had been bewildered by his impulsive nature; how he more than willingly paid for the expenses, risking it all for a girl who could leave in any instant. One photograph could end it all, and she couldn't distinguish who couldn't care less. A taxi led the couple down to the docks, where a man slightly older than them, a native of the land, waved at them.

"Greetings, Mr. Lennon, and Madam, my name is Will, and I will be your guide for this trip!" He smiled and held his hand out for both of them to shake. The couple shook his hand and introduced themselves properly. They approached the boat and helped the elder gentleman get the suitcases onto the boat.

"Hope you don't get sea sick," Margot muttered as she took a seat. He looked more distraught than usual, gripping the bars behind the leather seats tighter than the average person would. She did a double take and read his face, growing amused at the revelation that he could easily succumb to seasickness.

"Shit, you do!" She laughed.

"Sod off, I do not," He shot her an angry look.

"Make sure to put your life vests on please!" Will called out from the front of the boat. They both nodded at him, scrambling to find the awkward and bulky equipment. Once settled, the older man announced that they would be taking off, the boat's propellers instantly whirring through the blue water below.

"Don't worry Johnny, I'll pull you back in if you fly off," She poked him. He laughed at her remark and he swore that he could see a future in her eyes. He wished he had his camera, but it had been buried deep down in his luggage. Her hair had become a raven nest within the wind's power, messy and free, and she hadn't looked more beautiful. She grinned widely at him and he did the same. He cupped her cheeks into his hands and kissed her on the lips, an action that he never got tired of doing.

"I ain't going anywhere without you," He said to her. They hadn't been sure how long they had been riding for, because as soon as they realized it, they arrived at their first destination.

"Here's your first stop! Get off the boat safely. Good luck and have a safe time, you two!" He called out to them as they unloaded the boat and headed towards the island's sand.

The island before them stood tall and billowing; unlike the city back there, this island had been quieter in its nature, more private and mysterious without the peppering of humans throughout.

"I'd stay here forever if I could," John said while he took it all in. His daze had been interrupted by Margot's abrupt bump to the shoulder.

"Take a picture or something! Let's get rid of our luggage then we can go do stuff!" She waved the keys to their bungalow that sat right atop the water right into his face.

"Alright alright, Christ, woman. Can't a man enjoy a view?"

"Maybe when he's on his deathbed, or something. Come on, you slow poke! Help me out here!"

She scrambled with the bags and groaned in frustration, to which John responded with a laugh, running to her and grabbing several bags. Her hair had been still messed up from the earlier wind. He couldn't help but reach out and ruffle her hair, creating more of a mess than it already was.

"Quit it, you big goon!" She shoved him and proceeded to grasp the handles of the luggage, dragging them through to sand to the foot of their bungalow. She unlocked the door, and took a step back once the corridors to their suite on the water revealed what laid inside.


	11. A Melting Point

And what laid before them was quite a sight as well for the unorthodox couple, for what was in within the room was enough for the two of them to want to stay in for the entire trip. The two large wooden doors had been concealing an iridescent interior, donned with sand colored curtains, a large white couch amidst an extraordinarily detailed living room. To the right resided an all white kitchen, tarnished with marble tabletops. In essence, what would be their home for merely a week had been ultimately a small but saccharine piece of the sea, glimmering with ivory and hope. And that was only the first sight. 

 

“Holy shit, let’s just stay here for the whole week, yeah?”

 

“Yeah, no. We’ve got things to see. You’re more than welcome to stay here by yourself, though,” She chuckled and dragged the luggage inwards towards the living room, looking for where their room would be. 

 

“No thanks,” He muttered and continued with his baggage as well. He followed her to what would be the master bedroom, eager to see what was on the other side. Margot leaned on the doors and grinned once she peered in. 

 

“Seems like they gave us the honeymoon suite!” She laughed and let go of her luggage. Very much to the delight of the pair, the bedroom had been merely an extension of the other compartments of the home, emanating a sandy golden glow with bits of indigo and white. A silver bucket containing a bottle of champagne sat in the center of the feathery white bed. If it had not been for the awaiting week of wonders, Margot perhaps would have truly considered Lennon’s proposal and stayed in bed for the remainder of their vacation. However, adventure was waiting for them. 

 

“So, you’re telling me that we’re not on our honeymoon?” John mockingly gasped.

 

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a bellboy.”

 

“I never considered roleplaying in the bedroom but I can give it a try,” He scratched his head. In response Margot threw a pillow at his head, missing by a significant amount of centimeters.

 

“You’re incorrigible,” She scoffed. “Let’s get something to eat.” 

 

John eagerly nodded, following suit and placing his hand on her small waist. In comparison to renting out another suite in a hotel, he decided that residing in a bungalow, right on the water, would ultimately be icing on the cake; of course, he kept it a secret from Margot until she met eyes with the little hut on the sea. 

 

“By the way, why didn’t you tell me that we would be sleeping in a box on the ocean? Got bored of hotels?” She smiled at him while opening the door. Her shoes made small footprints in the sand as she walked towards the city, silently deciding that they would no longer rely on cars for future journeys; their pilgrimages were now purely on foot.

 

John chuckled. “Yeah, I knew you wanted something different. I wanted to surprise you,” He slid his hand down and intertwined their fingers, always slightly surprised at her disposal to the gesture. 

 

“You certainly are full of surprises, no doubt,” She squeezed his hand. “It means a lot to me, so thanks, for all of this, I mean.”

 

“It’s no problem, really. I just want to make my girl happy,” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand as a subtle action of affection. “I want to make your time here unforgettable.”

 

“You’ve done so already! Here I am, on a strange island with a strange man. It doesn’t get any stranger than this,” 

 

“You’re the only strange one here,” John said. “So small, yet so mysterious.”

 

“What can I say? I don’t have much to say,” She walked a little faster and gently pulling him along as she grew impatient with the walking. Truth be told, the woman with the long dark hair indeed was quiet when she wanted to be, and if it weren’t already an obstacle to see the color of her eyes The sand before them dragged for miles and miles and although they were a mere three feet away from meeting the pavement, the paces had felt like inches of slow progression. 

 

“Yeah you really don’t say much do you,” He noted. “Besides the rude remarks and comebacks, of course.” 

 

“I talk a lot when I want to,” She said simply. 

 

“Well, do you want to right now?”

 

“In all honesty, I kind of just want to eat right now. I’m fucking starving because  _ someone _ woke me up early and forced me to get ready. I haven’t eaten all day!”

 

“Neither have I! People are dyin’ and this is how you act,” He teased. “You’re a baby.”

 

“I’ll die right now if I don't get food in my stomach in the next ten minutes! Hurry up!” She bellowed.

 

“Quit complainin’!” John lifted Margot into his arms and ran into the city, where streets of food vendors and shops rested before them. 

 

A mix of a scream and a laugh emanated from her lips and she smacked John on the head. “Put me down!”

 

“I’m surprised you’re not used to this yet,” He gruffed as he set her down. “Now, be free, my little chickie. Pick whatever you like.” 

 

“Finally,” She flattened out her dress. “Thank you. Let’s get some seafood or something!” She pointed at a local restaurant and held onto John’s hand, leading him towards it. 

 

“Seems alright by me. Let’s go, woman,” He accepted her suggestion, pushing his sunglasses higher onto his face to avoid any attention. The couple was quickly seated with a view of the hills, sprinkled with city and bustling streets. What John soon learned to love about the Bahamas and Margot is that for once in a long time, he was granted the ability to feel human, without any doubts of there being stability in his status. There were few wavering moments in which he truly did feel like he couldn’t get his privacy, but something in these islands, and this woman, made it so that he wasn’t a Beatle, a superstar, but just John, and for once, that was a good thing.

 

“So, you’re a hundred and ten percent that your Beatle friends will be okay with you disappearing for a week?” She asked as she scanned the menu. She thanked the waiter when he approached with cups of water. 

 

“Why are you so worried about them? I’m starting to think you like them more than you like me,” His eyes met hers while the rest of her face hid behind the large menu. 

 

“Yeah, that Ringo fellow is a hoot,” Her statement was half sarcastic and half true, because Ringo lit up any room he entered and generally, he was a nice man; on the other hand, Margot eat men like him for breakfast. 

 

“Tough luck, he’s engaged.”

 

“You’re married.” 

 

“Cheeky.”

 

Their conversation sliced in half once the waiter returned and took their orders; being together in public was already a risk and not a single thought of the gravity of this minefield-esque romantic weekend entered either of their minds. 

 

“Anyways, I’m only asking because I don’t suddenly want to show up in the Daily Mail as the harlot who homewrecked a Beatle,” Once the words escaped Margot’s lips, the couple realized how rancid they were. Her sentence had the potential to become a reality at any second. 

 

“If you and I try hard enough to be avoided, then we’ll be fine. We’re on some pretty faraway islands and all,” John said this as more of a comfort to him than it was to her. In comparison to previous affairs, he kept his love hidden away and locked up, but he wanted to flaunt Margot as much as he possibly could, even if it meant risking it all. Their relationship was too large to be only contained in the bedroom. “Now, stop obsessin’ over Ringo and my wife. Obsess over me or something!”

 

Margot scrunched her nose in response. “You wouldn’t want me anymore if I obsessed over you,”

 

Taken aback by her statement, he couldn’t help but feel wounded in the slightest. He tasted bitterness at the back of his throat and for a few seconds, he didn’t have any excuses to muster up. She was right and he hated that she was. Had it been so that she was warm, affectionate, and sweet, he wouldn’t have chased her as much as he did; it was difficult for him to come to terms with how he wanted her because he couldn’t have her. He couldn’t admit it. 

 

“I think I would,” He spoke up softly. 

 

“Your face says otherwise,” She noted. “I have a feeling you’re not very used to women who don’t die at your feet.”

 

“I’m not,” He admitted. “But I don’t like you ‘cause you push me away, but because you treat me like a real person. Is that so bad?”

 

“Perhaps not. That’s pretty shitty though,” She took a sip of water. “You like me because I treat you like a human being? That’s sad.” Her tone was sardonic in its nature.

 

“Hey, it’s not easy finding someone who doesn’t want a clump of your hair, or an autograph.”

 

“You have a wife!”

 

“Why the hell do you keep bringin’ her up? If you cared about her so much, you wouldn’t be here with me, would you?” 

 

For the first time, it was Margot who was left floored by him, a lump forming in her throat at the expense of her own ignorance. She couldn’t distinguish the reason why she kept bringing her up; for her, it was two parts the enjoyment of the sacrifice John made, the risks he took to be with her, and one part curiosity. What was it about her that he simply could not resist? She played her own Devil’s Advocate, and at times, she felt fearless; yes, she was stealing a woman’s lover, and she did not care one bit. She asked so much about Cynthia, merely because her intentions were sadistic. 

 

“I wouldn’t. I bring her up because she seems to have everything you want,” She retorted. “I don’t understand why you’re bored with her. She’s the mother of your child, right? You’re famous and you’re risking it all with me.”

 

“I’m bored because I never wanted to settle down that early,” He reached over the small table and slid his hand into hers, grazing the back of her hand with his thumb. “We were kids, I mean, I never got an actual chance to fall in love the way I wanted to.”

 

“It’s love, you don’t have a choice in how you fall.”

 

“Guess that’s why I’m stuck with you.”

 

“You know we’ll probably never talk to each other once we leave here, right?” She slapped reality right onto the table. 

 

“That’s why we have to make the best out of it, then,” Soon enough, plates of their food arrived and they temporarily seized the conversation once again. “Don’t think that I’ve forgotten about our little deal.” He nudged her foot with his own. 

 

She smiled and the imaginary weights on her shoulders disappeared. He was so witty and eccentric, and Margot decided to only focus on how willing he was to go through with this. He clearly cared about her, and though she didn’t understand why completely, she chose to not question it anymore. 

 

“You’re already winning it,” She muttered under her breath, hoping that he wouldn’t hear it. 

 

“Hm?” He looked up at her, and she swore she saw honey in those almond eyes. 

 

“Let’s just say that you won’t have to struggle with this deal for long,” She composed herself and cleared her throat. A small part of her regretted saying that because she knew that John would in fact, take its advantage. 

 

And he did. 

 

With a grin on his face, he exclaimed, “See! I knew you would cave!” 

 

“I did not!”

 

“You said so yourself!” 

 

“I didn’t say shit!”

 

“Yeah you fuckin’ did! You like me, don’t you, Angel Face?” He winked at her and laughed. 

 

“Gee, I’m on vacation because I hate you!” She said sarcastically. “Of course I fucking like you, moron.”

 

John paused and stared at her with curious eyes. 

 

“You just couldn’t tell because you think I’m gonna ask for a damn autograph or something!”

 

“You like me?”

 

She glared at him for being so slow. Often times, his reactions were quick and so were his remarks, but now it seemed like he was in slow motion. He caught on and raised arms in surrender, all while chewing his food. 

 

“So do I win the deal?”

 

“No.”

 

“For Christ’s sake, why?” 

 

“Just because I tolerate you doesn’t mean I owe you anything,” She stated. “My heart especially. You’re still gonna have to work hard for that. I’m not even sure if I have one, most of the time.” 

 

There goes old Mars again, John thought. She was so wishy-washy, it drove him mad how she never sat still on one stance, or choice. Her feelings had changed just as quickly as the weather, one moment could be warm, while another, a monsoon drowning a village. 

 

“I’ll help you grow one,” His tone was joking but he meant the words with full intent. If he was convinced that she could be someone he truly loved, he could convince her as well. “Check, please.” He summoned the waiter and quickly paid for the check. 

 

“Now, let’s go on an adventure, Bonaventure.”

 

* * *

“If I knew you just wanted to stay in the city then I would’ve just stayed in Nassau,” John groaned as he followed Margot into the bustling streets and markets.

 

“Hey! We’re saving the big adventures for tomorrow and the rest of the week. We just got here and I want to save the best for last. Patience is a virtue,” She replied as she dragged him along by his hand, once again. 

She weaved in and out of the crowd and headed towards the large city ahead of them. Shops and stores welcomed them with their signs, colorful and alluring, tempting them. At first, she and John agreed to enter a beach clothing shop, as the man’s wardrobe consisted merely of sweaters and dress clothing. 

 

“You’re not going with me if you’re just going to wear your drab business clothes,” She said. “We’re buying you proper clothes for this trip.”

 

“Do they consist of a coconut bra and grass skirt?”

 

“You’re pretty stupid for someone pegged as the ‘Smart Beatle’,” She poked him in the shoulder. She glanced over and grabbed a light pink, short sleeved, button up shirt. She held it up to John’s build for reference.    
  


“What’s your size? Large, I’m assuming?” There was playfulness present in her voice, a slight sense of childlikeness that John had never detected until now. It was tender, and he adored it. He watched her with a content, Mona Lisa smile.

 

“You’re a genius.” 

 

“What? Oh I mean, I work with clothing, so I have to know how to fit people correctly,” She handed him the shirt and rummaged through the racks for more. In total, she found the same shirt in almost every color. She grabbed a pastel blue one and handed it to him. 

 

“No wonder you’re good at making us fit,” He smiled smugly at her, slightly high off of her growing affection. 

 

“If you consider our height difference ‘fitting’ then sure,” She teased, looking up at him. “You and I are not a regular couple.” 

 

“So you admit we’re a couple?”

 

“Yeah, a damn weird one at that,” She examined a pair of shorts and flung them at him. She grabbed several more articles of clothing and placed them into his arms. “Try them on now.”

 

“I came here for fun, Mars.”

 

“What? This isn’t fun for you?” She played dumb. “Have fun swimming in your trousers!”

 

“Fuck the sizes! I trust you. I’ll just buy them.” 

 

“That works too,” She shrugged. “I think you’re going to look rather charming in your new clothes.” 

“You’ve been awfully nice to me today,” John replied. “Are you sick?” He placed the back of his hand onto her forehead and prayed that she wasn’t coping with some sickness, but instead learning to reciprocate his feelings fully. 

 

“Yeah, probably,” She followed him to the counter and watched as he paid for his clothing. “Who knows what this tropical air is doing to me at this point.” John thanked the cashier once they left. 

 

“Whatever it is, I like it. Now can we do something  _ fun? _ Like go swimmin’ or back to the hut so we can break in the new bed?” His voice was slightly pleading. 

 

“Patience!” She held a hand up. “Also, you’re on an exotic island and all you care about is having sex?  _ In a bed _ , of all places?” John smiled sheepishly at her as a response, a silent way of saying “Guilty as charged.”

 

“You’re pathetic,” Amused by his expression, she shook her head and exited the store, following her. She was a flower and he was a bee in all senses; he was getting more addicted by the second and he needed a fix. 

 

“And you’re beautiful,” He sighed, reaching out for her hand. 

  
  



	12. The Hidden Beach

And what the rest of their hours on that day consisted of was something purely along the lines of magnificence, traveling within the streams of the city that beckoned them with the vow of action. Slightly tired from the day’s events, they walked towards the boardwalk that led to their bungalow. The waves and their sleepy “hello”s greeted Margot and John, and the conversation was silent. John unlocked the doors to the small home and set the bags onto the floor. 

“I’m never letting you take me shopping ever again,” He groaned. “I’ve had enough sightseeing for one day.”

“If I’m being honest here, I agree,” She sighed and took off her heels, plopping onto the large couch. John grew tender and sat next to her, placing her head onto his lap and brushing away her bangs. He glanced out the window, then down at the woman that laid below him; an idea sprung into his brain, and despite how tired they were, he gathered her into his arms and stood up. 

“Go get dressed into something comfortable,” He said softly. She blinked at him slowly. 

“ _ You  _ dress me,” She spoke up. “I’m too tired, Johnny.”

Too exhausted to argue back, he took her to the bedroom and set her onto the bed. “Uh, grab the clothes, will ya?” He scratched his head, a clear indication that she brought too many suitcases that he was unwilling to sort through. 

Sighing once again, she said, “Fine.” 

She unzipped her luggage and rummaged through the bunch of clothing, clutching a thin tank top dress and laying back down onto the bed. Without saying a word, John took off the clothing that concealed her body, a tight black dress and heels; next came the rings and bracelets, then the pins from her hair. He stopped for a brief moment to graze her skin with his fingers, gazing with delicate adoration. He slipped the dress over her figure and kissed her forehead before getting dressed himself, in a simple t-shirt and shorts. 

He nudged her arm slightly. “Get up, Angelface. I wanna show you something,”

“Right now?” She sat up and rubbed at her eyes. “Carry me.”

He chuckled and held her in his arms again. “You’re quite the dictator, even when you’re sleepy, huh?” 

“Shut up.”

“See? There you go again,” He smiled at her and held her closer. “You’re so damn adorable, I could eat your teeth.” 

“Where are we going?” She rolled her eyes at his comment. She grew impatient with his subtlety. 

“It’s a surprise, don’t get your knickers in a bunch,” He grabbed a blanket that sat on the bed and headed for the door, with her still in his arms. Once they hit the sand, John set her gently back onto the ground. 

“Follow me,” He intertwined his fingers with hers and walked her along the shore, silently looking up at the velvety night above them that watched with a thousand eyes. 

“You’re not planning on killing me, are you?” She kicked the sand. 

“Christ, who do you think I am?” He looked down at her, and she shot him a look. “Hey, you can trust me, alright? I’ll pummel anyone who dares to hurt you.”

She shot him another look.

“You can do that yourself, honestly.”

Another look. 

“Say something! Holy shit!” 

“Something.”

John sighed and shook his head at her comment, although he loved that she said it; she was just as childish and cheeky as him, especially when he had to answer interviewers and their insipid, shallow questions. His surprise was coming up soon, with 25 paces. 

“You really are trying to kill me,” She noted.

“What!? I just wanted to stargaze with you on a damn beach! You’re mad!” He exclaimed.

“Same thing!”

John pushed her and settled under the large and looming cave that had an opening at its ceiling, perfect for gazing up at the stars. The cave itself was mystifying in its alluring power, decorated with exotic flowers and plants. 

“You coming here or not? I could use a good pillow.” Margot said nothing in return and sauntered to where John laid, lying down next to him herself. She fit perfectly in the crook of his neck and she laid her hand right on his chest, where it monitored the slight movements of his chest. 

“You’re  _ my _ pillow, actually,” She replied. “Oh wow, the Big Dipper’s right above us!”

“They’re just some stars, and suddenly people wanna create pictures with them. Call em’ silly things like the ‘Big Dipper.’ It’s daft,” He teased her. 

“How could you not believe in the stars? They tell us everything.  _ We _ are made of stars, if anything, really. Except you, of course,” She retorted. She flipped over so that she was laying on his stomach, facing him. “You’re just full of shit.”

Now, it was his turn to flip over, bring Margot with him; he hovered slightly over her small frame. “What’d ya say?” He tickled her side.

“I! I said!” Every word she said was interrupted by a burst of laughter. “You're full of shit!!” Eventually she mustered up the strength to overpower John by doing her signature move of punching him in the gut.

“Shit!” He erupted in laughter as well. “You gotta learn to control your violence!”

“Maybe someday,” She was out of breath, resting back on her elbows.

“I’m more than a punchin’ bag, you know,” He scooted closer to her, laying on his side as well. 

“Yeah, I mean, you’re a pillow…”She began; her voice was low and sultry. “A 12 year old’s wet dream material…” She slowly leaned into his face, and he reciprocated.

“Am I not your wet dream material?” His voice was lowering as well, anticipating a kiss. 

“I don’t have dreams. You’re just,” She was practically whispering by now, the tips of their noses touching. “Bullshit to me.” Her voice was no longer a whisper, but a blatant and regular-sounding tone. She flicked his forehead with her fingers and the air erupted with laughter as she jumped onto her feet, prepared for whatever chase was next. 

“You goddamn tease!” John yelled, grinning as he began to chase her. “Come back here!” He quickly grew up to speed and grabbed her by her waist, hoisting her up into the air and bringing them both back down to earth. His grasp on her body was tight, and they rolled as one in the sand. 

“Alright, alright, you’ve caught me! Do what you will,” She surrendered in his arms, where she fit too well. John rolled them over once more so that he was on top. 

“I wanna know more about you. I still feel like you’re a million miles away,” He said, out of breath.

“Are you really gonna request to know more about me every time we go on a beach?” She laughed. “I kid. What do you wanna know?”

“Everything.”

“There you go again with the loaded request. Pick something smaller.”

“How old are ya?’

It seemed as though Margot was always thrown off by the simplest of questions; she couldn’t blame him, however. After all, she really never told him anything.

“23.”

“You’re the same age as Paul,” He chuckled and shook his head. “So that means I’m two years older than you.”

“Him and I do look pretty similar, with dark wavy hair and hazel eyes. We could be twins. Is that why you’re so in love with me?”

“Damn you for putting that image into my head. And no! I’m no queer.”

“Any more questions?”

“Have you ever fallen in love? None of that puppy love shit, but the real deal?” He squeezed her hand, anxious for her answer. She remained silent for several seconds. 

“I dunno, if I’m being honest. I probably have.”

“‘Probably have?’” He asked, disappointed. “Are you shittin’ me?”

She sighed. “Yes, I’ve been in love. But it was a while ago, and I broke it off with him in the end. It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“It kind of does, I want to know who had your bloody heart! You’re out here makin’ it seem like you don’t have one at all!”

“I fucking do, you moron!” She raised her voice. “Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted, I was with Walt for about three years. He was handsome, a little too reckless for my taste, however. So I left. Simple as that,”

“Reckless in what way?” His voice was wary.

“He was so childish. He’s the same age as you but I felt like I was babysitting a child! He was a little too rough, drank too much, unbearingly possessive. Very distasteful, if you ask me.”

“He sounds like a real party,” John sighed. “What did he look like?”

Suddenly vulnerable, John grew insecure at the sound of her past lover’s name. He really didn’t know anything about this woman, and based upon how she had been treating him, he was quick to assume that she hadn’t loved anybody at all. The thought of her loving someone else was enough to make his chest tighten and his heart beat a little faster. He silently scolded himself for becoming so afraid, especially since he knew that there was no way that she had remained single all her life. She was too easy to adore, by all. He pictured this so called ‘Walt” to be a handsome, yet brutish man, screaming at a distraught Margot. The image caused the man to wince. At heart, he always had a penchant for jealousy. 

To Margot, it felt strange to say his name out loud, like a child saying a curse word for the first time. She tensed up the minute his name left the tip of her tongue. She remembered the day she met him, back in college, where she clutched her books to her chest and her glances at the tall and strong boy with dark hair grew into stolen kisses in the library. To her, Walt was the London-esque James Dean with quiffed hair, all beige turtlenecks and black leather jackets, but not a single tear of sympathy. He was a gradebook of romance, and it was the first time she had ever fallen in love. 

“James Dean if he was a Brit,” Her voice was bitter in its tone, as though she was regretful over something she and John could not identify. 

“What a godly pairing,” He was surprised at her response. “How’d you guys meet?”

She clicked her tongue and shook her head, growing uncomfortable with her ex as a conversation topic. “School, I supposed he and I both fancied each other. How’d you and  _ your  _ wife meet?”

“Same thin’, actually. Except Cyn doesn’t look like Dean, and more like Bardot,”

Margot snickered. “She’s overrated,”

“She’s a damn looker, that’s what,” He retorted. “Somethin’ about you French girls drive me insane.”

“Gee, thanks,” She said, and once again, her voice had become sardonic. “You Brits make me want to rip my head off.”

“Gee, thanks!” He mocked her. He slid his fingers into her long hair, brushing it, enamored in his newfound love of dark hair. Margot truly was the opposite of Cynthia, and it hurt in the way he loved her. Perhaps, he loved her because she was so different from what he was used to. There was a long awaited shift in John and he knew it; he was changing, and his taste in women said it all. “Enough about Walt Disney and Brigitte. How ‘bout we change to subject to ourselves, then?”

“Even better,” She chuckled and snuggled into his chest. “My turn to ask questions, chap. Tell me about your past.” 

Sometimes, it was astonishing as to how little Margot and John actually knew about each other, and their adoration was almost shallow. Though she often appeared as apathetic and carefree, she genuinely wanted to know about John’s roots, very much in the way he so desperately wanted to learn about her. 

“Well, yesterday, I went to the casino with a mysterious woman, and the next day we got on a boat and sailed off to a mysterious island and-” He elaborated 

“Oh, you know what I meant!” She laughed. “There’s gotta to be an explanation as to why you are the way you are. You’re not normal in the slightest.”

“Your words are more poetic than Paul’s,” it was hard to tell whether he was being sarcastic or not. “I grew up with me Aunt Mimi.”

“Why not your mum and dad?” She asked softly. 

“God knows wherever my dad is, and my mom lived with her husband and had a new set of puppies with ‘im. She’s the one who taught me to play the banjo and mouth organ, and all them other stuff,” Margot read his face, and she could tell that something was bitter. 

“Some drunk flatfoot hit her right with his car. He killed her right when I was gettin’ to know her,” He continued, and she remained silent. 

“How old were you, then?”

“God, barely 17,” For a rather emotional subject, John tried his best to conceal the pain he harbored over the subject. He detected Margot’s silent softness through the way her small hand had held onto his; rather than pushing it away, he held her tightly and kissed her forehead. 

Again, she said nothing.

“Hey, now, I don’t want you gettin’ all soft on me here, Mars. No need to feel pity for me,” His voice was tender. “People die all the time. Paul’s mum is dead too, actually. I think that’s why he and I are so close.”

“ _ His _ mom is dead too? I’m sorry about your losses,” She finally spoke up. She leaned in and gave him a kiss. 

“Sh, don’t be sorry,” He was slightly amused at her sweetness, surprised at how easy it was for her to soften up once he showed some vulnerability. “I didn’t tell you everything about my past, just yet.”

For the next hour, John told his stories of adventures to Hamburg and America to Margot, who listened like a child, enamored in a fairy tale. She closed her eyes and imagined a sprouting John, with quiffed hair and leather jacket, singing his heart out on the stages of Hamburg with a younger Paul, George, Pete, and Stu. A part of her wished that she was there to experience those impossible excursions, but the closest she would ever be was through the fading memories that John spoke so fondly of. She knew that she had the ability to bring him on greater expeditions, far more extravagant than the Red Light district of Hamburg. It was through these tales, where the dark haired woman found herself falling deeper into Lennon, simply because she found herself in his stories; she had finally met her match. In exchange, Margot began to tell him about her past as well, how she was very much studious and rebellious like Lennon himself in her school days. 

“I’d kill to see you in a little school girl uniform,” they rolled in the sand in pure laughter, with Margot hitting him in the stomach. 

“In your dreams! You pretty much dress like a schoolboy every day, so I don’t have to wish for anything.” They paused their laughter to kiss. 

“Well I love to please the ladies,” He replied. “Also, I make your dreams come true, so you don't have to worry.”

“You make me nauseous, you know,” She playfully rolled her eyes. 

“Guilty as charged, Angel Face,” He winked at her.

Finally, he felt as ease as he saw Margot’s playful side, and he sensed his love being reciprocated. A small part of his mind was finally at peace considering that he no longer needed to put up a fight for her. The stories between the children of Alfred and Julia Lennon, and Veronica and Leon Bonaventure were enough to immortalize the beginning of an unbreakable bond. 

“Let’s explore. We can lay on our backs when we’re dead!” She leapt up onto her feet and grabbed John’s hand, struggling to pull him up.

“You really can’t sit still at all, can’t you?” He stood up and followed her.

“No, not at all,” She said. “Come on! You're so slow! Let’s check out those tide pools.”

“I've never seen one up close before,” He reluctantly said as she dragged him across the sand; often times, it seemed as though she was always rushing, pulling him into something he had no intent of speeding into. 

“They’re filled with all sorts of life. It's like a little world of its own,” Her voice filled with a certain eagerness, a passion that John found himself admiring; he watched her while she watched the watery, shallow world below. The tide pool teemed with colorful bouts of life with only the light of the moon to illuminate the tumultuous city within. Groups of small, brightly colored fish swam right between their legs.

“Well, won't you look at that,” He leaned down and tried touching one of the small fishes. “It’s like a miniscule city down here!” 

“I know,” She grinned. “Watch out for the small crabs, though, they’ll pinch you.”

“Wow, you? Protecting me? You really are goin’ soft on me, Bonaventure. I like it,”

She scoffed in return. “Don’t get used to it, Lennon. I’ll put one of them in your shorts.”

“I’d rather have you in my shorts,” He teased back. Slightly bewildered, Margot’s eyes widened, staring at him for a few seconds before she leaned down and grabbed a small crab with her fingers. She said nothing while she paced towards him in the water. 

“Fuck! Stay back!” He laughed as he kicked the water towards her, running away feverishly through the shallow tide. 

“You made me do this, Jonathan!” She walked faster towards him, eventually meeting face to face with the older man. Grinning maniacally, she leaned over and grabbed the waistline of his shorts. He swatted the air aggressively, the air filling with a mix of his shrieks and laughter, as well as hers. He flinched as her hand got closer to his shorts, failing to realize that she was merely teasing him. She tapped his shorts with the small crab before dropping it safely back into the water. 

“You scared the livin’ shit out of me,” He said, out of breath. “I almost died on the spot!”

“That’s kinda the point, Jonathan,” She replied. 

“Stop calling me Jonathan!”  
  
“No, I like it.”

“Well I don’t, so sod off it.”

“Don’t be a baby, baby,” She coddled him sarcastically, hugging his waist. John knew it was in false intentions, but he enjoyed the way she showed him affection; to return her “affections,” he gathered her up in his arms and carried her back to the sand, where they laid vulnerably to the water. 

“Tired of tide pools already?” She asked. 

“Yeah, I’d rather go back to laying down and stuff, even before I’m dead.”

Margot shifted herself so that she was on top of Lennon’s chest. “I guess you can’t really keep up with me, then,” Her voice was lowered, laden with something John only interpreted as sexual tension. 

“Oh, I can keep up with you. If anything, I think it’s the other way around,” He replied, in a voice just as quiet as hers. He slid his hands down to her waist. “You just can’t handle someone like me.”

“Consider yourself handled and trained, like a dog,” She said, dangerously close to his neck. “You seem to not take new things very well, like me, for instance. I’m too fast paced for you.”

Lennon’s grip on her waist tightened. “You and I both know for a fact that I’m faster paced than you.”

“Is that so, hotshot?” Her voice was a whisper. 

“I’ll show you right now.”

“Prove it, then.” Her last word was nearly cut off by John kissing her lips, sliding his tongue into her mouth with ease and triggering the beginning of a finish of something that she provoked from the moment they met. They rolled over and he covered her neck in blues, purples, and reds, once again, where they transformed their passion into action. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	13. The Beginnings of Venus and Jupiter

The couple woke up with the golden Sun kissing their cheeks and backs, as they laid entangled in each other’s arms. For a brief moment, Margot forgot the last night’s events, confused as to why she slept on a beach with a Beatle, and almost shocked that she did something considered so unorthodox, even for someone like her. At peace, she rested her eyes once more, enamored in the sound of the sea with its sleepy “hello’s” welcoming her again, only to be interrupted by the disgruntling snore of John himself. She slid out of his hold and squeezed his nose with her two fingers, blocking off his air supply; it was a mere two seconds before he woke up, panicking with the overwhelming feeling of drowning.

“Shit!” He yelped, out of breath. Margot looked at him with an immature smirk on her face.

“Good morning to you too, sleepyhead,” Her voice was groggy and her hair was tangled gloriously, a beautiful mess that even John found himself fawning over. He sat up and focused on the unfamiliar surroundings that encompassed him and the leading lady, with the faint echo of seagulls and the ocean’s soft waves filling the air.

“What’s the point of renting out a bungalow when we can just sleep out here every night?” He stretched and yawned, prompting Margot to do so as well.

“I’d rather not. My back is a goner,” She groaned.

“Nothin’ that ol’ Lennon can’t fix,” He gestured her to get closer to him so he could rub her back, massaging her muscles with his hands. She sighed, turning around to look at his face.

“Thank you,” She murmured, closing her eyes. “You can pick today’s events, it’s your turn.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” He kissed and bit into the nape of her neck. “I like this new you. Sweetness suits you, you know.”

“You really think so?” Suddenly overcome with insecurity, she tried to tame her hair, a symbolic gesture that could only represent the looming vulnerability that laid within, that was beginning to slowly leak out. “I happen to think it looks quite awful on me. I’m not used to it, if anything.”

“Oh, I definitely could get used to it,” He grinned. “Just proves that I won the deal, and your heart is rightfully mine.”

“Don’t you remember what happens if you win the deal?”

“What?”

“I have your heart in return,” She replied. “And last time I checked, your heart is wrapped in a wedding ring and has a child at home.”

“What if my heart’s not with her?” He defended himself. “I’m more than ready to give it to you.”

“And I’m more than ready to take it,” She turned around and grabbed his hand, kissing it tenderly. “I’ll eat it right in front of you.”

“Fine by me, Bonaventure,” He raked a hand through her hair. “I promised you an adventure, and now you’re gonna get one. Let’s take a kip in our _real_ bed and then I’ll show you some real fun, yeah?”

Margot nodded and stood up, brushing the sand off of her skin and offering a pale, thin hand to the man below. He intertwined her fingers with her, surprised by how she was able to pull his weight. He grabbed the blanket and together, they trekked towards the bungalow.

Upon opening the doors, Margot stripped the soft dress off her figure and paced slowly to the bed, sighing as she plopped onto the fluffy, white bed; John reciprocated, taking off his shirt and shorts and joining her. In addition to her ever-growing affections, she scooted closer to him, sinking warmly in his protective arms. They slept in an embrace for what seemed like hours, until they woke once again late in the afternoon. Unlike her previous awakening, Margot woke up with a jolt, and a sudden feeling of disgust, which prompted her to grimace at the bitter taste in her mouth. She slowly rose out of bed in fear of waking her lover, tiptoeing to the bathroom to take a shower. The man in the bed didn’t stir, not even once. She snickered at his form, snoring and mouth agape.

Once steam began to cloud up the room, she stripped and stepped into the downpour of hot water, sighing the instant it hit her skin. The remnants of the previous day and night slid off her skin, along with the barriers she guarded herself with when it came to men. She was falling for him, and she knew it. She knew that feeling right in the pit of her stomach and she was vulnerable, naked inside and out. It could almost make her cry- she missed him, which was stupid, because he was a mere room away, probably just as eager to see her as she felt with him. As though she could scrub off those strange, fatal feelings with soap, she scrubbed at her skin and washed her long, black hair to the best of her abilities.

Lost in entrancing thought, her streams of ponders were cut abruptly in half when she felt a pair of warm, large hands on her hips- she screamed and nearly slipped.

“Calm down, will ya? I’m trying to get clean too, you know,” He chuckled. Startled by his presence, she groaned and shoved him.

“You couldn’t at least wait until I was finished?!” She covered her breasts, although this was not the first, nor last time John would ever see them. He noticed this, raising his eyebrows at her sheepish demeanor, something so alien to her natural, cool, and indifferent state.

“Why are you so shy all of a sudden?” He cupped her face in his hands, looking down at her with large, affectionate eyes.

“I-I’m not,” She defended herself, crossing her arms tighter. John glanced down and gently held her arms, undoing them and placing them down at her sides.

“No need to be afraid of me, sweetheart,” He kissed her forehead, squinting as the water hit his face. “Especially since this isn’t new to us at all. It’s the same ol’ me, afterall.”

Margot couldn’t help but smile at his sweetness, bashful in ways that were unfamiliar to her. “You really are something else,” She shook her head at him, proceeding to condition her hair.

“Like you’re one to speak,” He teased, massaging her scalp and tilting her head back against the stream of water. He kissed down her neck and sighed as she rubbed his skin with the bar of soap. “You don’t know what you do to me…”

“Maybe I do,” She said, her voice gaining the usual confidence it contained. She massaged his strong arms, then his chest, with the soap.

“You kill me.”

“It’s all in good reason,” She lowered her eyelids.

“And what is it?” His voice was strained.

“There can’t be pleasure without pain,” She stated, now rubbing the suds with her hands. “Obviously.” She scratched at his chest with one swipe, in a catlike motion.

“Ow!” He exclaimed. “What sick fuck taught you that?”

“No one, it’s my own philosophy. Am I wrong, though?”

“Guess not,” He muttered, grabbing the bar of soap and returning the favor, growing hot in the shower.

“Just take me right now, Lennon, I know you want to,” She taunted. “There was no way in hell you were just going to step into _my_ shower, soap me all up, and genuinely wash me.”

“You know me so damn well,” He laughed, before pulling her close and lifting her into his arms, with her legs wrapped around his waist.

* * *

“Pass the eyeshadow!” She yelled and extended her arm out, while John brushed his teeth.

Spitting, he said, “Where the fuck is it?” He rummaged through the numerous bags and items that cluttered the bathroom counter. “Also, what the hell is all of this shit?”

“My makeup,” She sighed, leaning over and grabbing the blue eyeshadow herself. “You’re useless.”

“Give me Sensual and Shy Bathroom Sex Margot back, please!” He rolled his eyes at her comment.

“Oh, I’m still here, but if you keep that attitude up, you’ll never see me ever again,” She jokingly threatened, although she and John both knew she was capable of doing so. “All you gotta do is play nice.”

“What! You’re fuckin’ nuts,” He shook his head and laughed sarcastically. “All I’ve done is be nice to you. You’re the one that’s callin’ me ‘useless’ and stuff!”

She raised her arms in surrender. “Alright, I’m sorry. You deserve better than me,” She softened up, walking towards him and hugging his chest.

“You’re the best for me, Mars, and you know it,” He kissed the top of her head.

“Yeah, I do know,” She and John both laughed at her remark; her confidence was the one thing that made her so alluring, but seeing her vulnerable at times was always favored by him.

“That’s the spirit,” He ruffled her hair. “You haven’t said a peep about what I have planned for you today, why’s that?”

She shrugged. “No fun in spoiling things for myself. I enjoy taking things as they come, it’s much more of a surprise that way.”

“Myself included?”

“God, no.” Margot sauntered out of the bathroom and towards her luggage. “What’s the dress code for today, mister?”

John popped his head out from the bathroom. “Bathing suit, or no bathing suit at all, it’s up to you, really. But I’d recommend the second option, miss.”

“Ah! Bathing suit it is, then!” She grinned, leaning over and pulling out an intricate black bikini from her suitcase. After putting it on, she wore a short sundress over it.

He watched her get dressed, mesmerized by the process itself- it was a one-woman show, and the means of which she built herself for the day was a small gift. Ironically and surprisingly enough, she did the same for him, often catching glimpses of him when he wasn’t aware. The way his shaggy, brown hair curled behind his ears, to the slightest of cracks in his voice- split second stares could not suffice the magnetism that resided in her chest.

Dressing accordingly, John pulled out a button up, wearing his swim trunks over shorts, imitating Margot’s decision. He placed his sunglasses over his eyes and beckoned for her to do the same. She didn’t mention the possibilities of his upcoming endeavors; certainly, she was eager, but she had faith in his taste, and knew whatever he had in store was something she would enjoy. She’s been on numerous dates, with numerous men, but her trust in their taste wavered often, proving her intuition to be correct nine times out of ten. But this was different, and he was the one out of ten that didn’t waver in the slightest, for everything within him stood ground.

“Are you excited?” He asked her, opening the door for her.

“Of course I am, darling,” She took his hand and kissed it.

“You’re going to love it. I’ve got a hint for ya,” He swooned as he locked the door behind him. He pointed over to the shore, where Will and his boat floated. Margot’s mouth was slightly agape, growing curious of her next excursion.

“Hit me with it!” She smiled.

“Let’s say that last night was a little appetizer to today’s events,” He replied before he and she greeted the man on the boat. Soon after, they were off, speeding off in the waves and into the day. Margot leaned over and whispered into his ear.

“You’re going to shag me on another beach?” She laughed, as did John.

“That’s always an option. But not quite. You’re close,” He nodded. She opened her mouth to speak up again, but John placed a finger over her lips.

“Now keep that mouth of yours shut, I don’t want you spoiling the surprise for yourself, woman,” He said, and Margot yanked the finger from her face.

“I was just going to say that you looked devilishly handsome today, but I took it back once you put your filthy finger over my lips.”

“It won’t happen again, my apologies. You can go back to complimentin’ me and stuff now.”

“You’re a dog.”

“That’s all I get?”

“Fine, a _cute_ dog.”

“Thats better,” He grinned and kissed her head. Soon after, they arrived on the other side of the island, somewhere more remote, with an abundance of nature to take in. As Will bid his farewell to the couple, they stepped off of the small boat and walked towards a path with an intense tropic scenery, decadent with foreign palm trees and flora that they would never see at home. John plucked a bright red flower from a bush and tucked it in Margot’s hair, right behind her ear. In return, she did the same, pulling down his shoulder so he can crouch to her height, and placed a flower behind his ear as well.

“For a man who claims that most of his love songs aren’t about anyone, you’re pretty romantic,” Margot noted, as they walked hand in hand.

“Truth be told, I just needed the right girl to come along,” He stepped up his pace and began to walk slightly faster. “Hurry up, will ya? I want ya to see the surprise!”

“I’ll just walk slower and slower every time you rush me,” She stated, suddenly walking at an immensely slow rhythm. He groaned loudly and pulled at her arm.

“Come on!” He lifted her up and ran across the pathway. “You made me do this!” Soon after, they arrived a few meters away from the final destination, and though she struggled with all her might, John made sure she didn’t see. He placed her down on the ground, facing away from the surprise, and covered her eyes with his hands.

“Let me see!” She yelled.

“Stop bein’ so impatient!” He laughed and rested his head on top of hers as they walked slowly towards the surprise. After a few steps, they stopped, and John’s hands left her face.

“Surprise, love,” He peppered her face with kisses. Before them, stood a large body of water, surrounded by vibrant greens and blues and neons of all colors, for they were in paradise in a hidden cave. If last night’s ordeals were a hidden beach, this was a secret island, a kingdom of their own, garnished with a small waterfall and a picnic set up for the two of them.

Margot’s eyes gleamed at the mystic sight, smiling widely and doing nothing but jumping into John’s arm’s kissing his face a thousand times.

“Oh my god! John! Is this for us?” She knew she sounded stupid, but she didn’t care, for she was elated.

“Do you see anyone else here?” He asked cheekily.

“Oh shut up,” She laughed between her kisses, hugging him. “I love it, thank you so much, John.”

“Anything for you, Angelface,” He led her to the picnic blanket, where a basket and guitar laid there, waiting for them. “You must be starving, yeah?”

“Of course,” She pulled out the basket’s contents, and they dined with a view. Once they were finished eating, John poured two glasses of wine, which they cheered off to their blissful and unorthodox vacation.

“Do you remember what you said earlier to me? About me not writing my love songs about anyone?” He brought up, sipping on his wine.

“Yeah, what about it?” She asked.

“I wrote a song about you,” His voice softened. Margot’s head turned and she looked up at him.

“Really?”

John nodded, grabbing his guitar. “Wanna hear it?”

She nodded in return, not saying a word. Mentally, she had made it; she had achieved the pinnacle of her status, because her rock star boyfriend wrote a song about _her,_ and nobody else. Starry eyed, she watched him as he settled with the guitar, watching his long fingers hover over the fretboard.

“Is there anybody going to listen to my story  
All about the girl who came to stay?  
She's the kind of girl  
You want so much, it makes you sorry  
Still you don't regret a single day  
Ah, girl, girl

When I think of all the times  
I tried so hard to leave her  
She will turn to me and start to cry  
And she promises the earth to me  
And I believe her  
After all this time I don't know why  
Ah, girl, girl

 

She's the kind of girl who puts you down  
When friends are there  
You feel a fool  
When you say she's looking good  
She acts as if it's understood  
She's cool, ooh, ooh, ooh  
Girl, girl, girl

 

Was she told when she was young  
That pain would lead to pleasure?  
Did she understand it when they said  
That a man must break his back  
To earn his day of leisure?  
Will she still believe it when he's dead?  
Ah, girl, girl, girl  
Ah, girl, girl”

 

As the last strums of the guitar faded and echoed out in the nature around them, John watched Margot’s face for any sign of a message, but she was unreadable, as she always was. She donned only a smile that could rival the enigma of Mona Lisa herself. Growing insecure, he scratched his head.

“What’d you think?”

“It was nice.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, a nice song.”

Knowing her strange vernacular, John knew that a simple word such as “nice” could have easily equated to “beautiful,” “extravagant,” and “marvelous.” She didn’t say much, and she didn’t need to. Though she wouldn’t say it out loud, she loved the song, more than anything in the world. Perhaps, she still was slightly afraid, though she knew there was no need to be at this point. Aware of her apparent lack of gratitude, she crawled over to him and planted a kiss on his lips, slightly stirred from the wine.

“Tu es un Dieu à la poésie,” She whispered between the kiss.

“What does that mean?” He sighed.

“You, are a god at poetry,” She pressed her forehead against his, before feeding him more wine. Her skin was slightly flushed.

“You should teach me French, so I can speak it to you,” He whispered, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Maybe later, Mr. Lennon,” She said, taking off her dress. “I want the Sun to kiss me.” She laid on the sand and closed her eyes.

“By Sun, do you mean me?” He chuckled, leaning over to kiss her collarbones.

“You’re no Sun,” She shook her head and ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re Venus, at best.”

Puzzled, he raised his head and looked at her with trivialized eyes, as he’s done so many times before, unsure once again if she was a lady, or a tiger in disguise. “What in God’s name does that even mean?” He lowered his sunglasses.

“You’re a Libra, which is ruled by Venus,” She said without moving a muscle. “Doesn’t hurt to crack a book open every once in a while, chap.”

“You look like you’re the Moon,” He mused, resting his head on her chest again.

“Wrong.”

“Let me say things like you, for once!”

“I would, if you got it _right_ , darling,” She replied.

“Fine, what are you then?”

“I’m Jupiter, and I’m larger than life.”

“Makes sense.”

There was a pause, with only the noises of water pouring, along with bird chirps, to fill the air.

“You’re not going to ask me what my sign is?”

“I don’t know how that shite works!”

“There’s twelve signs, each of which designated with their own individualistic traits. I am a Sagittarius, therefore, I value honesty, travel, and philosophy above all.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be half horse, half man, too then?” He asked. In response, she scoffed at him, and stood up.

“Of course I am, _mentally_.” She responded, before walking to the edge of the body of water, and dipping her feet in. She then slid her whole body into the water. “Are you coming, or will I have to enjoy this by myself while you watch?”

John raised his eyebrows as he watched her gracefully enter the water, fumbling over the buttons on his shirt. “I’m comin’!”

Once he peeled off his clothes, he leapt into the warm water and swam towards her, which was near the waterfall. She pulled him close, right under the fall, and kissed him.


	14. A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

John held her by her waist as they let the cascade of water roar beside them, kissing her feverishly under the soft sunlight. 

“I can’t believe that you’re real,” He murmured, kissing her neck. 

“You haven’t seen many things then,” Margot sighed. “Maybe you haven’t looked well enough.”

“Oh, I have,” He replied, shifting to hold her from behind. “And you’re the best thing my eyes have spotted.” 

“I think we all know that you’re blind as a bat.”

“Even still, you’re a sight to see.”

“I could say the same for you, perhaps,” She teased. 

Like gold, he shone in the sunlight, and it reminded her of the warmth she desperately needed in her life, which had been so busy, yet cold prior to his existence in her life. Though she didn’t say much, she internally gleamed at the fact that he wrote a song for _her._ Not his wife, not any lovers, but _her,_ and that in itself was a glorious feat, coming from a man who could croon love songs about thin air. And it was beautiful. _He_ was beautiful, if not the most eloquent and unique man she had laid her eyes on. With warm and brown almond shaped eyes, as well as a long nose, he was a strange creature, but one with such untouched tenderness that could predispose anyone into falling weak into his very own hands. 

“You’re gorgeous,” She muttered, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his. 

“Me? Gorgeous? I’m startin’ to think that you’re the one who needs glasses,” He chuckled. 

“My eyesight is perfectly fine. I know art when I see it,” She replied. 

He opened his eyes and looked at her; whatever she said never failed to leave him floored, regardless of how little words she spoke. As time progressed, she grew warmer, softer to the touch, and he mirrored her, becoming equally as vulnerable, weak with the thought of love and passion. His soul resonated with hers, as they were equal with one another, something that Lennon could only find with very few people, if not, only one. He couldn’t tell where he ended and where she began. 

“What do you know about art?” He asked.

“Everything. I’m an artist too, you know,” She said. 

“You are?”

Margot looked at him, perplexed. “Why of course I am. I design lingerie, I paint, I write poetry. And I smoke. Just because I don’t sell my soul to mindless fans doesn’t mean I am not an artist.”

John said nothing, and smiled.

“I’m not just a muse, monsieur. Very much like how you are both an artist and muse to me.” She continued. 

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” He said, inebriated with the words she spoke. “And, you’re the greatest muse and artist to me too.” He laughed.

“First, you question my credibility on art, and now you lie?” She chuckled. 

“Who said I was lying?!” 

“Me! You haven’t even seen my art.”

“Well, I don’t need to see it to know that it’s good. You’ve got the passion for it, and that’s enough.”

“Fair enough. I know the things I make are good,” She agreed. 

Now, more than ever, John was eager to see her art, desperate to fit pieces of herself together so he could understand her in ways he never could with words. He knew art, he lived for it. He breathed for the music, the sketches, the clever plays on words and rhymes that no one else around him seemed to fully appreciate. The whole act of manifesting passion into something tangible, yet so emotional, was the only power he truly cared about, for it was the only thing that made him a genius in his own eyes. Additionally, he was confident in his creations, and to see her be just as proud was attractive, and trustworthy, as he was able to find himself in her. 

“I make some pretty damn good art myself,” He waded in the water, swimming towards more shallow water. 

Margot sardonically laughed. 

“What? Do you not agree?”

“I’m kidding. Your art is obviously good if you’re causing such an uproar around the world. It’s impressive.”

Most often, he wasn’t phased by compliments, but when they came from her, they were so heavy, and he could almost feel a shock in his fingertips.

“Thanks, I try,” He said cooly, sitting on the sandy ledge. Margot swam forward, elevating herself onto the ledge as well, and lying down. Following suit, he lied down with her. 

She turned her head to face him. “Are you going to miss me in two weeks, when you and I have to go back home?”

When she said “two weeks,” his heart sunk slightly with the reality of it all, that she would disappear once again, and he would have to return to his frantic, tumultuous life of touring and recording music; it almost hurt. 

He didn’t answer her question. “We need to make the hell out of these two weeks, you hear me, Mars?” His voice was borderline angry. 

“I thought we were going to, anyways,” She replied. He grabbed her face and kissed her repeatedly. Initially, she was stunned, then she sensed the subtle fear.

“By God, you’re afraid of losing me.”

“Well, of course I am,” He mused. “It’s incredibly selfish of me to want you for a little longer, but I can’t help it.”

“And that’s why we’ll make it worth it, so you can go home all satisfied with no need to miss me.”

All signs of joking were gone from his face, and he was deadpan. The smile on her face faded.

“I don’t think I’ll go home satisfied, regardless. I think I’ll always miss you.” He ran his fingers through her wet hair.

“I’ll miss you too, and all of this. I wish we could stay like this forever, but we can’t, darling.”

“I know, it’s tragic,” He said. “Anyway, enough of this sad stuff! We’re gonna make these two weeks the best time of our lives.”

“Agreed.”

The next two hours, John and Margot spent drying off, basking in the glow of the warm Sun and lazily playing songs on the guitar, falling madly, and deeply in love. She spoke of her passions, the reasons why she chose to focus on the beautiful things in the world, and how she chose art and adventure above other things. 

“I don’t think I could live in a world of routine. I constantly need to move around and learn, or else, I’d go mad!” She said. “Your world is so paradoxical, since you are surrounded by music and travel, yet it’s a routine for you. How does that work for you?”

“It doesn’t. I’m tired all the time. It’s not boring, just exhaustin’. We constantly experiment and try new things, and I bloody love it, but at the end of the day, I just want a fuckin’ nap.”

“Passion shouldn’t wear you out, it should inspire you. I want to take you to museums and shows. I want to show you what life is all about, because clearly, you are missing something,” She said.

“Aren’t you already doing that?”

“Of course, but you know what I mean. I want to do everything with you. There’s probably better planets for us to breathe on,” She explained. “I want you to have a little taste of my world so you can see what it means to really live.”

It hurt, how badly he wanted to just run away with her and experience new things, to live his life to the fullest with no consequences; he was already doing that now, but time was not on his side. And her explaining all of this talk of living, and new endeavors only made him ache more for something he couldn’t have. He wouldn’t dream of it being any other way, but that’s why he was in pain-simply because all he could do was dream until then.

“Teach me, then,” he said, his voice taunting her slightly. 

“Oh, I will. You’re all about risks, and that’s all you’re going to have from now on. Being with me is a risk. Let’s go cliff diving.”

“Are you shitting me right now?”

“Did you not listen to a word I just said? Let’s go before you rot away into nothing.”

She stood up, and began to walk towards the hilled beach outside, which led to higher land and an extravagant view of the water before them. She noticed John only stood and watched, without following her. Groaning, she grabbed his hand and dragged him, out and upwards to the elevated land above. 

“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” he laughed anxiously. 

“Come on! We can go together if you want,” she offered, extending her hand out to him. He quickly took it.

“Let’s jump together,” he confirmed. They took a few steps back for their running start. 

“Alright, one, two, three!” She yelled, and they ran, and then they flew. For a few seconds, they were limitless, soaring through the air with nothing holding them back. A wide grin spread across their faces, and Margot couldn’t help but let out a scream. Soon enough, they were engulfed in the warm blue, air bubbling around their faces as they rose up to the surface, where they gasped for oxygen. They reached out for each other, barely resembling the majesty of The Creation of Adam when their fingers were a mere inch away from each other. 

“Are you alright?” She asked him as she wiped hair out of his face.

“I’m fuckin’ fantastic!” He laughed, cupping her face and kissing her. 

They rejoiced in great triumph, for they knew that they were in the exact spot where the horizon met the sun, and that there would never be a moment like this again-a time where there were no consequences, but a time only filled with endless love. John went under watery blanket, pulling Margot down with him, traveling a world that was no longer theirs. They were encapsulated in swirls of blue and teal, with the most nobel coral, and if they weren’t blinded by the conditions of the sea, they would find themselves in the only place they would consider their home. But hazy vision and all, this was enough. 

They used their final breath on an underwater kiss, their hair floating up and all around them; the ocean was a paradoxical place, for it relied so heavily on gravity, and yet, its inhabitants blissfully levitated with ease as though they had been on the Moon. They swam up and gasped for air.

* * *

Hours later, their faces glowed from the orange luminescence of a bonfire, along with the elation that seemed to only grow as time progressed. They were on a beach once again, but this time, they were worn out, tired from the day’s events, lazily slumping on the sand and against a palm tree. Margot sleepily weaved flowers into John’s hair while he sang and played guitar softly. 

“You’re one hell of a creature,” John spoke up. 

She shook her head and chuckled. “So are you, monsieur. But that’s what I like about you. You’re a monster.” 

“Call me ugly too while you’re at it!” He teased. “What I meant is that it’s like you’re not fuckin’ human or anything. What are you?”

“I am that I am,” She said. “Simple as that.” 

She said nothing after that, closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder. He parted his lips to say something, but there was nothing to be said. Though, he was curious about her earlier statement, calling him a monster. What could have that meant? A pentapod villain who sought out to dine on the flesh of mortals? A ghastly beast that bore an underbelly of misunderstanding and innocence? Or, perhaps, a man with fault. _I’m just a fuckin’ musician,_ he thought to himself.

He strummed the guitar slightly until it was time for Will and his boat to show up again, to take them back to their home on the water. Not wanting to wake her up, John gathered her up into his arms and carried her onto the boat, where the pilgrimage would be only accompanied by the sounds of the sea. Once they made it to the main island, he thanked the man and held onto his lover until she was tucked into their bed. However, she stirred, and woke up. 

“How’d we get back home?” She yawned. He couldn’t help but grin at the sight of her, all soft and tired, with messy hair and glassy eyes. 

“I carried you home on my back, while I swam for three days straight.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope, you slept the whole time! Snored a little, too,” He spoke sweetly, and there was a pause, with him and Margot smiling at each other. They grew tender in the hours of night, and for a moment, they communicated silently, only looking into each other’s eyes, as that was all they needed. He leaned in for a kiss, hovering slightly above her. Instead of kissing his lover, John’s face was ambushed by a pillow, as she smacked him in the face with it. 

“I don’t snore. Your story is fake,” She said in a pseudo-angry voice. She stood up, and walked towards the bathroom. 

“And where do you think you’re headin’ off to?” He asked. 

“To my second bathing of the day,” She replied. “Also, away from you!”

“So, I’m assumin’ I can’t join you, then?” 

“What part of, ‘away from you’ don’t you understand?” She groaned and slammed the door.

She drew the bath, letting the hot water flow while she stripped. John listened to the water running from the outside, restless in bed and eager to join her. She placed a vinyl onto the turntable, which emanated a low and soft hum of French croons. The bubbly foam was freckled with red rose petals, and she finally stepped in, sighing once the warm water touched her skin. She rested her head against the marble wall and closed her eyes, finally at peace, until the man outside spoke up. 

“I’m feelin’ awfully lonely out here,” he groaned, his voice muffled from the distance. 

“Not my problem,” she replied, not moving a muscle. 

“Can I keep you company?”

“Fine.”

Instantly, John rolled out of bed and barged through the bathroom doors, welcomed by a warm cloud of steam and romantic music. He slyly grinned at the image before him, a relaxed Margot obscured by bubbles and rose petals, with her hair up. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” he sat on the ledge of the large bathtub, yearning to reach out and touch her. 

“Hi,” she finally opened her eyes. “Miss me too much?”

“Yeah, but also, I like what I’m seeing right now,” he carefully extended his hand and stroked her collarbone with his thumb. 

“Certainly not a surprise to me,” she said, smiling at him. “Now that I think about it, you could use a bath too. You probably stink.” 

“Everything you say is too sweet,” he said sarcastically. “Also, I’ll pass up the offer. I’m not too fond of sharks in the water, truth be told.”

“Afraid of me, are you?” she asked, shifting a little in the water. She swept away some foam away from her chest, subtly teasing the older man. “Also, it’s not like you spent the whole say swimming with me, or anything.”

“You’re the last thing to scare me, woman,” he lowered his voice and leaned closer to her. 

“Then get in.”

“Am I just a swimming partner to you?”

“No,” she said. “You’re something closer to prey.” She reached out and grabbed him by the neckline of his T-shirt, kissed him, and pulled him into the hot bath, fully clothed. Foamy suds and rose petals overflowed from the tub and onto the floor, much to the disregard to the lovers, who were entangled in each other. John carefully held himself up, hovering over her body in fear of pressing his weight onto hers. He growled, feverishly sucking on her neck, only stopping to remove his clothes. 

“Now, was that so hard?” she asked him, amused by the mess they made. She looked down at the petals sticking to her chest, removing them and placing them onto Lennon’s face. 

John never answered her question.

For some parts, they genuinely cleaned each other. For others, they made love. And when it was neither, they were splashing each other and creating a mess when all they wanted was to be clean, ironically enough. 

Moments later, after mopping up the soapy scene, John and Margot were sitting on their bed; he wore a T-shirt, boxers, and his glasses, which soon grew to be her favorite look on him. She was in a nightgown, and he was brushing her newly dried hair, admiring it in its slightly wavy element. He hummed Elvis tunes, which she undoubtedly noticed, and sang the opening words to “Jailhouse Rock.”

“God, you’re perfect,” he kissed her shoulders. 

“Elvis is perfect,” she responded, laughing. 

“You’re not wrong there,” he hopped off the bed and grabbed his guitar. “But do you like him more than you like me?”

“Maybe!” 

“‘Maybe?’” he chuckled, astonished by her answer. “But Elvis can’t serenade you like this, can you?”

He began to play the guitar, and sang the words to “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” walking towards her. Margot recoiled in response, giggling and slowly backing away on the bed until she decided to get up and run. John chased her as he continued to play and sing, with her running around the room. 

“And when I touch you I feel happy, inside,” he sang as she twirled, her nightgown blooming around her like a flower in spring. 

When the song was over, they tiredly plopped onto the bed, laughing. The light in the room was dim, and they grew sleepy, but they were too excited, too enamored to close their eyes just yet. They pulled the sheets up to their chins, whispering stories to each other. John made out constellations on her face with her freckles, as he promised to do so the first time they met, finally realizing that the stars were with him.


	15. A Montage of Love

“I can’t breathe!” John exclaimed as the water engulfed him, thrashing about once he was finally within the blue underworld, only to float up again.

“You’re being a baby!” Margot laughed at him, splashing water at him. John looked ridiculous with oversized goggles over his face, hair plastered to his forehead. It was her idea to snorkel, so that this time when they swam, they could fully enjoy the world below them. “You’re not supposed to breathe out of your nose!”

“It’s fuckin’ hard not to!” he yelled back, frustrated with her amusement.

“Quit complaining. You just have to get used to it!” she replied. “Act like yourself and be a mouth breather.”

“Oh fuck you.” he sounded cynical, but he was having too much fun.

“Yeah, you wish, now swim!” She grabbed his hand and led him under the surface. Up until then, they took their words by heart, urged to make most out of their limited time together. Their days consisted of new adventures and endeavors to compensate a ticking-time-bomb life with an upcoming expiration date, one that might as well have displayed “All Things Must End” in bright lights in their bungalow home.

John calmed down and breathed through his mouth as Margot guided him under the sea, where the coral and fish were bright, and the small bumps, scales, and lines of every creature were visible to his eyes. He squeezed her hand as a silent gesture of reassurance and the world before him swirled in bright ultraviolet colors, hues and tints that could never come close to replication on the dry land above; however, blues and purples and all, they couldn’t compete with the majesty of the woman beside him, whose black hair messily billowed and spiraled around her in inky greatness. If he squinted hard enough, he could have seen her hazel eyes, which were too occupied by the greatest of creatures.

 _Oh fuck it,_ he thought, ripping off his goggles and mouthpiece and tossing them aside. They sunk to the bottom, creating a cloud once it hit the sand. Margot turned and swam towards the surface, taking her mask off as well.

“Why’d you take off your-” she was cut off by his lips, his hands cupping her face, thumbs running over her wet cheeks, plastered with her hair. Once he pulled away, she laughed, something that he still couldn’t get over. She dumped her goggles as well, watching as it spun to the bottom of the ocean. They kissed again, dunking themselves under and entangled in each others arms and legs. Something grazed their legs, and they stopped kissing, to find a sea turtle in the area. Through blurred vision, they smiled at the large animal, stroking its fin as it passed by them. They swam around it, following its calm and slow pilgrimage through the currents.

“So, those goggles were a bust, huh?” she asked once they were above the surface.

“Yeah, no shite,” he replied. “I couldn’t kiss you with them on. I mean, even you took ‘em off!”

“I only took them off because you took yours off! I wanted to see the fish!” she said.

“You’ve been seein’ fish nonstop for this entire trip, Mars,” he swam towards the shore.

She looked at him for a brief moment, her expression was unreadable, as always. 

“You know what?” she sounded angry as she propped herself up on the sand. He squinted at her through the bright sunlight, one part due to the harsh white of the Sun, other parts of fear. “You might just be right.” She smiled at him, prompting him to chuckle in return.

After their failed impromptu snorkeling trip, John suggested that they go hiking, to see a different part of nature that neither were familiar with. Out of all the things they have done together, hiking was the one endeavor that brought out the most vulnerability in the woman who claimed she was fearless, or so she believed.

“Christ, jump, woman!” he yelled out. He and Margot trekked through tropical terrain, amidst a humid haze that hung where they breathed, alongside an echoing roar of wildlife that existed within, and without. Their ears played tricks on them, never knowing whether a cicada was miles away, or a mere inch from their faces. John stood on a rock, waiting for his mistress to jump over a gap that would lead from one platform to the next. She clung desperately to a tree, afraid to look down at the meters of rock below.

“Give me a fucking minute!” she shouted back at him. She felt embarrassed, humiliated that out of all the things she’s encountered on this trip, this was the one that made her weak. She felt unattractive, inside and out, especially given that she spent so much time preaching to John that she would be the one to bring out his courage, and additionally, a taste for adventure. With cliff diving, there was water beneath her. But here, there was nothing to cushion her body except the comfort of jagged rocks that would undoubtedly tear her even before she hit the ground. She finally let go of the tree and took small steps towards the edge. _Don’t look down,_ she forced herself. She backed up a few steps, ran and jumped over the gap, yelping as she crashed into his arms. Out of breath, she clung to him. He was amused, brushing her fray hairs back and kissing her forehead.

“Do you want a medal for that?” he chuckled. She wriggled out of his grasp, stepping back into some leaves, one of which had a brightly colored bug on it; she screamed at the contact, waving her arms madly as she ran towards him.

“You’re so jumpy today, love,” he smiled, too entertained by her antics. “Honestly, it’s the most expressive you’ve been on this entire trip!”

“Yeah, leave it to some bugs and heights to bring out the worst in me,” she said as she brushed herself off, walking up the trail. “Oh hurry up, will you?”

“Alright, alright!” he softened his tone. “You’re so impatient, damn.” he muttered as he caught up to speed.

“I’m just excited to see beautiful things with you, that’s all,” she replied, taking hold of his hand and kissing it. He couldn’t read her tone.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Well, so are you. Sometimes.”

“That’s a damn lie, and you know it.”

“And so what if it is?”

“Then you’ll have to pay the price of playing me like a fool,” John laughed, raising his fists as though he was ready to fight.

She looked down at his fists, then up at his face. She placed her hands on his fists and lowered them. “Thank God I’m not lying then,” she said. “Also, I would beat you. Instantly.”

After a while, they finally reached the final stop of the hike, an area perched high above the greens that boomed with wildlife. Exotic flowers were in full bloom around them, yet, all John could focus on was how the sunlight made her freckles more prominent against her skin, which glowed against the sunny skies.

Margot’s expression softened as she watched him in return, making brief eye contact, then parting away to appreciate the nature that engulfed them. When he wasn’t looking, she snuck a photo of him, immortalizing him in silver and celluloid. Neither said a word while they were up there. They didn’t need to speak to each other for this, to fully absorb the majesty and the moment that could have either lasted a few minutes, or a few years- they both couldn’t tell.

John turned his head once he heard the metallic clicking, smiling and walking towards her. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“I’ve seen better,” he said.

Margot scoffed and pulled out of his grasp playfully. “You can’t get stuff like this at home, Johnny,” she looked at the swirl of pink beyond their heads, contrasting so well against the tropical greens and the blue of the sea.

“Liverpool ain’t that bad sometimes,” he replied.

She shot him a look.

“Alright, it’s pretty shite,” he chuckled. “I could be up here all day with you. Think I’d go anywhere as long as you’re there with me.”

* * *

Their dwindling days had become a myriad of periods of love making and desperate attempts to live as though they could no longer breathe on this earth, with time’s grip on their bodies growing tighter and tighter.

“Another round?” Margot asked, out of breath. She looked outside. It was dark and quiet, except for the faint hum of the ocean that sat nearby their window. The clock read 3AM, and she brushed John’s hair back, slicked with sweat.

“Already?” John sounded slightly defeated, yet amused overall. She nodded eagerly, yearning for him. He leaned over and kissed her feverishly.

It was during these vulnerable periods where they knew they belonged together as one, two counterparts that fit so well. By the end of each excursion, they found themselves too exhausted by the island’s spell, with only enough energy to simply be with each other.

The next morning, John woke up to soft shaking of his arm, with her hand being the cause of it. Her voice was a bit higher than usual.

“Joooohn, wake up,” she said, and as much as he hated waking up, he couldn’t help but smile at the first sight of her face, bare and all.

“Hm?” was his weakest attempt of a reply.

“Let’s get food.”

An hour later, a groggy and tired John and a supple Margot sat at a table at a local restaurant, where they ate exotic food. She took note of how willing he was to try new foods, despite their unfamiliarity.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” he asked her. “Fighting poisonous spiders? Learning to eat fire?”

“A boat ride,” she looked at him as though he had grown an extra eyeball. “What are you? Crazy?”

This was Lennon’s turn to look shocked. “Excuse me, miss, but last time I checked, you’re the one all about goin’ on crazy adventures,”

“Well yeah, but there’s nothing wrong with having a peaceful day with you as well,” she answered. “Idiot.”

After their breakfast, they rented a boat and headed for the ocean, with low Spanish music filling the air through a record player. They accidentally matched their outfits that day, both wearing black sunglasses, and tight button up short sleeved shirts. Margot’s hair flicked in big waves, mimicking the style of stars in old Hollywood. A waiter came up to them with a tray of wine glasses, which they both took. Silently sipping on their beverages, they watched the ocean and its frothy waves until their glasses were empty. Margot’s movements were snake-like as she rose from the comfort of John’s arms, and she gave him a hand.

“Dance with me,” she smiled at him. Reluctantly, he got onto his feet and watched as the dark haired woman swayed with the music, and finally, he gave in. He held her as they danced to the music on the sea; he dipped her and kissed her neck.

“Not so bad for someone with too much rock and not enough roll,” she said.

“I dance like a god and you know it,” he replied.

“Bouncing your knees when playing the guitar doesn’t count,” she chuckled. “Also, you hold your guitar way too high up for your own good.”

“Count me other flaws while you’re at it.”

Margot’s eyebrows raised and she opened her mouth to speak, and John could tell that she was going to have too much fun with his suggestion.

“Actually, I like it more when you’re dancing,” he laughed and prompted her to dance more.

“What? Afraid of the things I’ll say?” she smirked. “I’ll let you off easy, and you can say what my flaws are. It’ll make it fair.”

“No way in Hell, Angelface.”

“Say it.”

“No.”

“I know you’re aching to say something.”

“I’m not!”

“Chicken.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groaned, squeezing her cheeks. “You’re so beautiful it hurts, you know?”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit!” she laughed at him. “I know I’m awful, just say it!”

“Fine,” he said. “You’re too mean sometimes and you see me as a dumbass but I’m not. I’m not someone that needs to be ‘saved’ or taught or anything. I’m cultured too.” Despite the blatant truth, he confessed the words with a tender tone that made his statement a genuine admittal, rather than a harsh dig. Margot’s expression softened, and nodded her head in agreement.

“I suppose I’m a tad too cynical for my own good. And I do know that you’re cultured. I just want to learn more things and grow with you as well,” she placed a hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry, by the way, monsieur.”

John’s expression melted, and he cupped her face into his hands. “It’s alright, darling,” he kissed her nose. “I like how fiesty you are.”

“Shut up,” she said before leaning in to kiss him. Their potential kiss was cut off by someone’s voice.

“Mr. Lennon, there is a woman on the phone for you,” a staff member said, approaching the couple. “She claims that she is your wife.”

Bug eyed, the couple looked at each other before peering back at the man. Without saying a word, Lennon approached the cabin of the boat, where a rotary phone on a stool sat. Margot was on his tail, always a few paces behind.  
  
“Hey, Cyn,” John greeted his wife.


	16. A Potential Forever

Margot’s heart faltered slightly at the name of his wife, which had only been previously used in passing. Despite their being on a faraway island, often times the couple had been wary of onlookers, starving paparazzi, and their jeering camera flashes and loud headlines. Regardless of the risk, she remained indifferent overall, placing an uncommon trust on the married man. 

“I miss you too, luv,” he said. His voice was tender. “How’s Jules?” There had been a pause, implying that she was speaking. 

“That’s gear! Tell ‘im that his dad misses ‘im,” he said, unusually sweet. “Paul and the others are good too, think Ringo’s gettin’ a sunburn, though.” 

Another pause. 

He mustered up a fake chuckle. “I can’t wait to see you either, darling. I’ll see you in a few weeks, yeah?” he said. “Well, I’ve got to go now. Love you, Cyn.” He hung up, slightly red at the thought of Margot listening and watching a few steps away. 

“Sorry about that-” he began. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she cut him off, raising her hand in the air. “The world doesn’t stop simply because you and I are away from everything and everyone, you know?”

“Sure feels like it does,” John replied. She hugged his chest before going to the table and grabbing another drink. 

“So, let’s enjoy ourselves, then,” she said, raising her glass and sipping on the champagne. She sat down on the cushioned bench that ran along the inside edge of the boat, huddling herself up and looking towards the sea. “Tu me voulais à la place de ta femme, après tout.”

“Come on, Mars, you know I can’t speak French,” his voice faltered slightly in a pleading way, although he loved it when she spoke French, as her voice somehow was silkier, if that was even possible. 

“Exactly,” she said. Originally, she said, “You wanted me instead of your wife, after all,” but she wanted him to squirm a little.

“Fais-moi croire que nous sommes les deux seules personnes sur cette terre,” it was easier for her to be romantic in French because he couldn’t understand it. Despite all of the passion, she knew to refrain, still. 

“ _Margot_ ,” he sighed.

“ _John_ ,” she smirked. 

“Tell me what you said,” he begged. 

“It’s not that important.”

“If it wasn’t, why won’t you tell me?”

She looked at him, shook her head, and laughed, looking beyond the sea. 

“Fine, if you must know, I said, ‘You wanted me instead of your wife, after all,” she finally answered him. “You’re sick, Lennon.”

He glared at her. “What else did you say?” 

“I said, ‘Let me believe that we’re the only two people on this earth.’” she sipped her drink. “I’m sick too, I know.”

“We can be sick together, then, I reckon,” he kissed her head. “Someday, I’ll learn French so I can understand everythin’ you say about me.”

“You don’t even understand me to begin with, but good luck,” she taunted. She fished a box of Benson and Hedges out of her pocket and opened it up, grabbing a cigarette, and lighting it. She stood up, and amplified the music on the record player. She then extended her hand out to John. 

“Let’s continue where we left off before we were so rudely interrupted.”

John approached her and placed his hands into hers, slipping right into her lazy, sultry dance that went so well with the music. Margot naturally dipped in his arms, though he wasn’t the best dancer. If anything, he was quite a stiff dancer, and she knew it, but rigid movements and all, they were liquid. 

He thought back to the first night they saw each other once again, at the night club, as her dancing brought him back to those early days, which seemed so far away. His heart ached slightly at the memory; he longed for her so badly, and she was so stubborn to give her heart to him, and now here they were, feeling as though they were the only inhabitants on this heaven of a planet. 

“So, what’d you say earlier about being the only two people on this earth?” John asked softly, lowering his head to touch hers. 

“You’re the only one that matters here when we are together, monsieur,” she answered him. “Or, you certainly make me feel that way until we both leave.”

“I do?” he asked, surprised at her genuinity. He tried not to ache at the thought of them leaving soon. 

“Absolutely,” she smiled. “I only tease you because I know you're willing to fight back, you know. I like that a lot about you.”

“I like that a lot about you too, you know,” his voice was low. 

Time passed the couple quickly, and the skies soon melted into a fiery orange, and the yellow lights of neighboring boats made themselves present. Along the far horizon was a line of sand, where a large fire began, commencing the beginnings of a party. They both snapped their heads to the sound of people cheering. 

“Perhaps it’s time to take this party to land,” Margot said, easily distracted by the larger attraction. Her response to Lennon’s earlier statement quickly left her mind. She asked the captain to turn the boat around, and soon enough, it turned and headed for the shore. She unbuttoned her blouse, to reveal the intricate top of a black bikini. Like clockwork, John watched her with curious and mesmerized eyes, placing his sunglasses on top of his head as she took off her pants as well. 

They entered the beach party initially undetected, until random patrons recognized the star and sparked a large crowd around him and his lady. People yelled and bellowed at their arrival, cheering that John Lennon himself, was there, in the flesh. The couple, flushed from the recognition, happily accepted drinks from their temporary friends. Though this was one of the first times they were spotted as a couple, neither of them cared, placing a strange trust on the strangers on the beach.

“That was a smart move, Bonaventure,” he said, wrapping his arm around her and watching the bonfire. 

“All the decisions I make are smart,” she replied as she sipped her drink. A friendly looking guy approached them with a guitar. 

“John, man, you gotta play something!” he exclaimed. A crowd of bystanders agreed through their cheers. 

He took a swig of his beer. “Oh, why the hell not?” he shouted as he reached out for the guitar. “Give me tha’!”

A girl with flowers in her hair sauntered towards Margot, who sat on a nearby log. Smiling, she plucked the flowers out of her hair and tucked them into Margot’s. She kept a blunt tightly between her lips, and like the flowers, she gave it to the dark haired woman. Margot stared at her with enigmatic eyes, a silent notion of gratitude. In the near background, she heard John yell gibberish and jump right into the opening lyrics of “Help!”

The crowd eagerly sang along in their drunken and heightened glory, dancing and linking arms to one another as fireflies flew around them. As John sang, his words slurring slightly, he scanned the group of friends for Margot, dismayed to realize that she wasn’t with those who sang or danced. Instead, she was off to the side, sitting, casually smoking a blunt across the fire and appearing as a mirage; her facial expression was unreadable, almost coming off as amused, or smug. The crowd applauded once the song was over, and he handed the guitar back to a fan, and walked over to his mistress.

“Aye, Mars! Come ‘ead and join the party! We’re bored without you!” He sloppily wrapped an arm around her and pressed his forehead against hers. His breath smelled strongly of booze. 

“You lot seem just fine, by the looks of it, darling,” she cooed, squishing his cheeks with one hand, grabbing the blunt from her lips with the other, and placing it between his lips. “Have you ever flown before?”

“Flown? What are you on about? We met while flying!” he pointed out, before inhaling and choking on the smoke. 

“No, I meant with the stick between your mouth,” her voice was airy. She picked a flower from her hair and placed one in John’s. “‘Ave you ever been high?”

“Eh, the boys and I’ve smoked some shite version of it back home back when we were kids,” he took another hit. “Dunno if that counts.” He coughed more, and gave it back to Margot. 

“Well, I guess this’ll be your second time flyin’ with me,” she blew a smoke ring into his face, to which he popped with his finger. “But this time, we go for the stars instead.”

John opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of firecrackers and the sounds of awe from the crowd. A girl ran to the couple with giant sparklers in her hands, giving them to the couple.

“Speak of the devil,” Margot noted. “Let’s go.” She stood up, and ran, letting her arm trail behind her as she scurried across the sand and away from the crowd. She twirled a few times as her feet left the very ground. John quickly stood up after her, and with sparks flying all around her, he chased what he believed to be the stars. The closest thing to what he felt would be the feeling of flying, floating a few feet above the very sand, unsure whether it were the drugs, or love that made him feel that way. 

Eventually, the fuse of the sparklers dimmed out and only the industrial smoke remained. Margot and John, out of breath, collapsed onto the sand, glancing over at the faraway party that lied within the distance. 

“I love you,” John confessed, eyes closed, and body vulnerable. A brief pause sat between them. 

Margot peeked at him through one eye, passive with what he said. Calm seeped into her veins, for she was all knowing, even with the most catastrophic of news. 

“Bad idea,” she sighed. 

“What do you mean? When I say ‘I love you,’ it’s just a damn feeling. I wasn’t fuckin’ expecting anything back, you know,” he said, suddenly growing defensive. 

“That’s good then,” she replied. “Because you’re not getting anything back.”

“What’s all of this, then?”

“A good time, nothing more, nothing less. You shouldn’t get so caught up in all of these feelings. And, it’s a bad idea because it’s not very tasteful to love someone like me; you’ll be chasing something that’s only good in the moment.”

“I think I’ll be chasin’ something that’s good in any moment, honestly.” he said sincerely.

“That’s sweet of you to think,” she scooted over to him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I don’t belong in your world.”

“But you do,” he moved his thumb over her hand. “You’d fit so well with me. We could be mistfits together.”

“You really think so?” she considered the idea of staying with him, once this vacation was over, and when they would have to return to their lives outside of the dreamscape. 

“I know so, love.”

“I’ll consider it, then,” she mumbled into his neck. “I feel like the universe has something in store for the both of us.”

Margot bared her teeth in the face of adversity, for fear was something she grew to regard with apathy and nonchalance. Height, insects, and disease were no match for the woman whose blood was never warm. Irony loomed largely in her presence, especially given how intimate she was, yet how afraid of love she had been. Intimacy, like irony, too lingered well in her life, but it was commitment, that made her tremble, for she was unsure whether she could keep the promise and loyalty alive. She feared for a life of monotony, and sex that was only in the bedroom. Perhaps, she was only afraid of boredom and losing her power, ignorantly confusing it with commitment. However, would she ever be bored or powerless with a man like John? She pondered this, knowing that perhaps, committing to him, would not be the ultimate loss; she wouldn’t allow for their relationship to become anything routine in the slightest. She could have easily loved him, but the subtle, yet incessant reluctance in the back of her head refrained her from becoming any more vulnerable than she had already been with him.

 


End file.
